


A Giver's Love

by alicegirl88



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Assasins, Comforting, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Giants, Lots of Angst, Magic, Near Death Experiences, Past Abuse, Past Neglect, Slow Burn, Trolls, Violence, and dragons, bandits, lots of fluff, oh my!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:32:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 82,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8768239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicegirl88/pseuds/alicegirl88
Summary: Sybil is an expert destruction mage with an attitude as fiery as her magic. A whirling day filled with bandits, Imperials, dragons, and near-death experiences marks the start of her life spiraling apart. Skyrim was deadly before, but as she becomes more renowned, the country becomes ten times more lethal for her. She's a target and a fighter, but she also has to be the mother of two supposed orphans.With a civil war and a world eater weighing on her mind, she becomes very fed up with the world of Nirn.





	1. An Infectious Beginning

_**Fredas, 23rd day of Midyear, 4E 201** _

 

First, there was an ambush. Then, there was a motherfucking dragon. Now, there was a giant in the middle of a cabbage patch. _Why wouldn’t there be?!_ The giant was surrounded by a group of five people who didn’t even seem to be hindered by the evening darkness.

Sighing, Sybil jogged over to help. She felt a brief surge of power when the flames shot from her palms, and the giant was down in the next ten seconds.

She noticed a woman in Nordic armor heading towards her, the others staring at her with surprise. Sybil was breathing heavily, her body and magic having already been overworked during the past few hours. She was exhausted and light-headed. The leg wound a bandit had happily gifted to her before her capture was throbbing painfully, and she swore she could feel her body heating by the second.

She barely heard a word the woman spoke, only catching the names Aela and Kodlak. She numbly followed the group, only getting within twenty paces of them when she needed to slip through the gate. If the group realized that she was following them, they made no move to say anything about it.

She ignored the odd looks the guards gave her. She looked like a mess and knew it. Hell, she couldn’t even remember the name of the town she was in.

_Something to do with running…_

Sybil groaned when she came to the first set of stairs. Being slowed by pain and weariness, she got to the top just as the fighters were filing into a building made from a long boat. She walked towards the same structure, almost sobbing when she saw more steps.

_Why am I even following these people?_

Swiping the thought out of her muddled mind, she began the agonizing trudge up the stone stairs. When she finally got to the top, she had to lean against the stone wall in an attempt to catch her breath. After a moment of labored breathing, she pushed through a set of double doors and shouting instantly met her ears, making piercing pain rack through her brain.

She saw a pair of brawlers on one side of the mead hall, a group of people having gathered around them.

She couldn’t discern any of the shouts, and an overwhelming wave of light-headedness forced her to brace herself against a wooden column. No one had noticed her yet. They were too focused on the fighters. Heat was pulsing through her weary body.

Suddenly, she lost her grip on the pillar and fell face-first down the small flight of stairs, feeling her stomach drop as the floor rushed towards her. When she landed, even more pain pulsing through her body, she was lying face down, her body vehemently refusing to move.

Half-conscious, she could tell that everything had stopped from the abrupt silence. The last thing she heard was a pair of footsteps thudding across the old floorboards.

****************************************************************************************

“Do you believe she’ll be able to fight the infection off, Danica?”

Sybil just barely heard the elderly-sounding voice through the fog in her brain. Her body felt as if it was on fire, the flames the hottest on her left thigh.

“More than likely, yes. The wound seemed to have not been dressed properly, no doubt worsening the infection,” a thick female voice replied. “Just make sure she rests, and give her a healing potion when she wakes up.”

Sybil’s eyes fluttered open just as a set of footsteps receded. She searched the room. Three other fur covered beds, two nightstands, and lanterns hanging on the stone walls were the only things she could see. Well, only inanimate things at least. The woman in Nordic armor, Aela, and a white-haired man were talking quietly in the doorway.

She couldn’t move, so she cleared her parched throat to grab their attention. They both looked over at her. A kind smile broke onto the man’s face.

“Hello. My name is Kodlak Whitemane, and this,” he gestured to the woman, “is Aela. How are you feeling?”

“It feels as if I’m on fire and that someone is pounding a hammer on my head for funsies,” she deadpanned. Kodlak chuckled.

“I’d expect so. You had quite a dangerous infection in your leg. The healer said you should heal quickly, though.” He let out a sigh. “So, Aela says that you helped them dispatch a giant outside of Whiterun. Is this true, Miss…?”

“Sybil, my name is Sybil. And yes. Although I don’t know how much help I was in my condition.”

Aela smiled. “You were plenty help. It would have taken much more time to take the thing down if not for you. You and your flames did catch us off guard, though.”

“I didn’t burn anyone, did I? My magic can get a bit wobbly when I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you did actually singe a bit of Torvar’s hair, but he’s probably already too drunk to remember.”

Kodlak cleared his throat. “Now, we don’t usually have mages in our ranks, but you seem to have a special strength about you. If you prove your worth, you could join our organization. We have open beds here in Jorrvaskr."

Sybil slowly and painfully sat up, raising an eyebrow at the man. “You’re offering me a place here?” He nodded. _Well, it would be nice to have another place to stay. Things at the Flaggon have been getting tense lately…_ “Okay. I’m capable of using swords and bows, too.”

“How are you in battle when you not using magic?”

Sybil considered the question for a moment. “I’m sure that I have much to learn.”

“That’s a good attitude to have here. Overconfidence can be deadly. I’ll have Vilkas test your arm tomorrow, if you are healed enough for it. Now, it’s late, and I suggest we all get some rest. Aela, make sure she gets the potion.”

Aela nodded before Kodlak left the room. She then gave Sybil a healing potion, mentioning that it should help her sleep, too. Once she’d left the room, Sybil layed back down, some of the pain and heat already leaving her body.

_By the nine, what a day…_

By the time she drifted back to sleep, the room was still empty and the only noise she could hear were the light wavering noise of the flames of the lanterns.


	2. New Blood

_**Loredas, 24th day of Midyear, 4E 201** _

 

Vilkas watched the new blood standing across from him with a steel sword in her hand. He had to give it to her: her stance was almost flawless and she certainly had resilience. It was only the morning after she’d collapsed in the mead hall, but she was eager to have her skills put to the test.

But he didn’t think she would make it very far in the ranks. She was small. Not scrawny, just thin and short for a Nord. _She won’t look like much of a threat to anyone._ Her blood red hair reached the middle of her back, the loose curls just waiting to be seized by bandits and draugr. And then there were her clothes. Vilkas knew enough to recognize the expert mage robes. The deep blue cloth shimmered slightly in the sunlight, telling him that it was enchanted. They offered absolutely no protection, making close combat even more fatal.

“Well, the old man said to take a look at you, so let’s have a look,” he said. He lifted his shield and sword, bracing himself for her attack. “Give me your best, whelp.”

She dashed towards him with such swiftness it caught him off guard. She struck his sword with surprising force, making him stumble slightly. She took his moment of surprise to sidestep to his left. He barely had time to lift his shield again before flames shot from her free hand, so powerful they were licking the edges of the shield.

“Hey, stop!” Instantly the flames were gone, and when he looked at his shield, he saw that the front was completely charcoaled. He shot a look at her, noticing she flinched slightly at his gaze. “We’re seeing how good you are in a battle _without_ magic! So, stop that shit!”

“Okay, sorry! It’s just an instinct!” She held up her free hand in defense, and he automatically brought up his shield. She glanced at her hand, slowly lowering it, only a tiny bit of annoyance showing on her face. “Calm down. I can control my magic. I’m not gonna fry you, I promise.”

“Alright. Let’s go again, this time _no magic_.” He watched her stroll back to her previous position, noticing a slight limp. They both returned to their stances, and at his nod, she came for him. He was ready for her speed this time; he used the shield to parry her strike and returned a swing of his own. She ducked quickly, crouching. He just barely saw her left leg swing to his calves before her impossible strength knocked him on his back, the blue sky filling his view.

“Much to learn, my ass!” Aela said from the pavilion, apparently having been watching the little exercise. Vilkas groaned as he sat up and glared at her. “If you can take Vilkas down, I bet you could take anything down.” He saw Aela’s face become concerned. “Whoa, Sybil, are you okay?”

When he turned towards Sybil, he saw her bent over and clutching her wounded thigh. Blood was seeping onto her fingers.

“I’m fine, I swear! Just pushed a little too hard,” she said, waving a bloody hand dismissively. Aela was already by her side when Vilkas got up and walked over to help. They sat her down on one of the benches. Aela went back inside to get a healing potion and fresh bandages.

He sat in a chair across from Sybil. “I saw you limping. You should’ve told me that you were hurting,” he deadpanned.

“I’m fine. I’m not gonna get anywhere in proving myself if I don’t just tough it out.” She looked at him as if that was obvious.

“Listen, toughing it out, ignoring the problem, puts you on the fast track to injury and, eventually, death. You collapsed only last night. You can’t expect to be in top shape the morning after, especially since the infection isn’t completely gone.” He heard Aela coming back. He stood. “You won’t start training or working until you’re completely healed. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea about how well you fight.”

Vilkas heard her give an aggravated sigh as he walked back into the mead hall.


	3. Should've Listened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it has been a while, but here's a long chapter! Enjoy!

_**Loredas, 24th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Midday)** _

 

Sybil knew that she was stupid not to listen to Vilkas. She had told herself that helping the jarl was more important than healing, but now, as she stood in the Bleak Falls Sanctum, she was really regretting it. The wound on her leg had healed enough, but her entire leg was on fire. _Why couldn’t I have learned restoration spells?_

She pushed farther into the large cavern, dodging dozens of bats. Walking towards the center of the room, she passed a black stone coffin and approached a wall with etching on it. It was a language she seemed to recognized, had seen in one of the books at the College. A few of the etchings were glowing, the whispers seeming to emanate from it drawing her forward like a moth to a flame. The only word she could recognize was fus, meaning force in an ancient language, the name of which she could not recall.

The closer she got the brighter the glowing became, and as she stood in front of the wall, wispy light began to wrap around her. Her hair was whipped around while the whispering grew louder and the wind grew stronger. Then it stopped, silence settling back into the cavern. She was rooted to the spot, bewildered as her body warmed and glowed slightly for a moment. The only thing breaking the sudden peace was the throbbing pain in her thigh.

Then there was a loud crack of stone that made her whirl around. She came face to face with a draugr deathlord. _Wonderful._ She quickly lit him on fire, effectively dispatching him. Searching the coffin it had crawled out of, she discovered the tablet Farengar had requested and grabbed it. Sybil took a sweep of the surrounding area and grabbed any valuables.

Once she emerged from the cavern, the freezing air bit at her skin, although the day was beautifully sunny. The chill was usually easily ignorable, but it was significantly colder up in the mountains. _I’ll have to get a cloak when I get back to town, too._ She expertly weaved her way down the treacherous slope, only losing her footing once.

Shreds of the peace that whispering wind had given wisped through her mind. She grasped at the tiny bits of warmth that were being chased away by the bone-chilling air.

Her way back to Whiterun was quiet. She had no run-ins with bandits, animals, or creatures on the paths. The wound was still throbbing when she walked through the city gates. Sybil struggled up the stairs and passed the Gildergreen. A quick glance to the mead hall revealed no Companions standing outside. She didn’t want the ass chewing she was bound to get from mister dickhead keeping her from giving the stone to Farengar.

The guards cast wary glances at her while she panted at the top of the steps. _By the nine, Sybil, you’re in better shape than this! Even wounded!_ After she caught her breath, she pushed through the large wooden doors of Dragonsreach and made a beeline to the court wizard’s quarters. He was talking to a hooded woman when Sybil walked in.

“…is running, Farengar, don’t forget. This isn’t some theoretical question. Dragons have come back.” The woman was hunched over a few documents.

“Yes, yes. Don't worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found...very intriguing...I think your employers may be interested as well...” Sybil slowly approached the pair and cleared her throat. “Hmm? Ah, yes, the Jarl's protégé! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems.”

“Well, I may have had a few close calls,” she replied with a smirk. She held out the tablet.

“Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way.” He eagerly took it from her and examined it closely.

“So, what do you want me to do now? Fetch a tablet for unicorns?”

Farengar chuckled, but the woman he had been talking with almost looked offended. “This is not a matter of fairytales! Dragons, unlike _unicorns_ , are real and extremely dangerous. One has already destroyed Helgen!”

If there was one thing Sybil hated, it was a person with no sense of humor. They were just impossible to be around. “I know, I was there,” she deadpanned. The woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “And unicorns are very real! I found one myself; he was in middle of a grove infested with minotaurs. Named him Lord Milk. He was also extremely dangerous because he didn’t really like it when someone pulled out any weapons. I ended up accidentally drawing my sword around him and he was _pissed._ But, hell, I did get a pretty horn out of it, although I still miss him dearly.” Sybil’s time in Cyrodil years ago had been brief but nothing short of eventful.

Now the woman was looking at her as if she was insane. _Well, I probably am since I just fought my way through tons of draugr just to get a fucking stone._ Irileth, Balgruuf’s housecarl, ran into the room. For some reason, the housecarl had really been grating on Sybil’s nerves. She seemed to have a bad attitude about her.

“Farengar!” she shouted. “Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon’s been sighted nearby.” She looked to Sybil. “You should come, too.” Sybil followed the pair up the stairs, ignoring Farengar as he blabbered on excitedly. _A dragon… Oh, shit! What if they want me to help fight it? I may be able to kill a few draugr with my leg like this, but not a motherfucking dragon!_ She hoped she would be able to catch the wizard long enough to heal the wound if the jarl did want her help.

She barely listened as the guard reported his story about a dragon that had been circling the watchtower. Then the jarl sent him away and turned to her.

“There's no time to stand on ceremony, my friend. I need your help again. I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon.” _Dammit._ “You survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here. But I haven't forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I have instructed Avenicci that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city.”

She gave a reluctant nod, and Farengar stepped up beside her.

“Before you even ask, Farengar, no you cannot go with them. I need you here finding ways of defense in case this dragon should attack the city.”

Farengar sighed sadly. “As you command.” He quickly disappeared down the stairs. She began to head toward them herself when Balgruuf called to her and Irileth.

“This isn’t a death or glory mission. I need you two to inform me on what we’re dealing with.” They both gave a short nod and continued down the stairs.

“Hey, Irileth,” she said, catching the woman’s attention.

“What?”

 _That’s why I don’t like her. She’s too curt._ “I need to speak with Farengar for a moment. I’ll meet you at the tower,” she answered, not even trying to hide her annoyance.

“Fine.” And with that, the woman just walked on.

“Bitch,” Sybil muttered under her breath. Once again walking into Farengar’s quarters, she found him bent over the stone busily deciphering it. “Farengar.”

He looked up from his work, but still managed to write something down. “Mm?”

“I need you to heal a stab wound for me. Can you do it?”

He nodded. “Of course. Come around here and let me have a look at it.” She walked around his desk and let him examine her leg. After a moment, golden light bloomed in his hands as he held them over the wound. There was a soft warm spreading through her body, and when the light died out, she saw that the cut was completely healed. She reminded herself that she’d need to mend her robes when she got back.

“Thank you very much,” she said. “Do I owe you anything? Gold?”

“You are welcome and no. Believe me, this tablet more than covers it. But I must ask. Did you drink any healing potions for it?”

“Yes, actually. It had gotten infected, but the Companions helped me and gave me some. However, they didn’t seem to work for some reason. I usually heal very quickly when I use one.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Did that happen today?”

“No. I had been on my way to Riften and was attacked by bandits. I let my guard down for a second and one managed to land a blow. Then I had the misfortune to be trailing behind a group of Stormcloaks, one being Ulfric himself, when they were ambushed. The Imperials thought I was with them so they captured me, too.” She sighed. “It was a pretty exhausting day, overall.”

“So, that’s how you were in Helgen! Will you tell me about the dragon?” He reminded Sybil of a young child when he talked about dragons.

She heard guards running past the large doorway, no doubt heading to assist Irileth. “I’ll have to save that story for another time, sorry.” She started towards the door, relieved by the lack of soreness in her leg. She looked back over her shoulder at the wizard, thanked him again, and left the castle.

She had made it to the Gildergreen when she heard her name. She swiveled in the direction of it and groaned when she saw who had called. _Dickhead. Great. Here comes the ass chewing._

“Where the hell have you been? I told you to rest until you were healed,” he said.

“I was just running a few errands for the jarl.”

“Errand’s, huh?” Great. He was a dickhead that could see straight through her. “What kind of errands?”

“Oh, you know, retrieving something from a dangerous dungeon and, now, he’s wanting me to go fight a dragon. Nothing much.” She laced her words with nonchalance. Vilkas’s jaw almost dropped.

“You’re kidding, right?” She shook her head. “All on a wounded leg?!”

“Well, I had to go through Bleak Falls Barrow with it, but I won’t have to fight the dragon on it. I had Farengar heal it. Aside from a few mental problems, I’m as good as new!” She gestured to her newly healed leg. “Speaking of dragons, I’ve gotta go. This errand is a rather important one.”

“Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

“Wait, what? Why?” She raised an eyebrow.

“One, Kodlak seems to think you’ll be extremely helpful to the Companions, so he won’t want you to become a dragon’s lunch. Two, you shouldn’t go into battle alone, especially with how bad the odds are. Just like ignoring a problem, it’s a good way to get yourself hurt or killed.” His icy blue eyes were determined, and she knew that she wasn’t going to convince him otherwise.

Sybil sighed. “Alright, but we need to get a move on. The dragon was apparently circling the watchtower a bit ago.” He nodded.

When they made it to the tower, Irileth was waiting with several other guards. The tower was in ruin, cloaked in fire and smoke. Irileth was talking to the guards, but Sybil was hardly paying attention. Instead, she was surveying the destruction. The place seemed to be completely deserted, and, besides the crackling of flames, it was eerily silent.

But then Sybil heard a loud whooshing, like the flapping of very large wings. She looked towards the sky, but saw nothing through the thick clouds. The guards seemed to hear nothing, so she turned to Vilkas. “Do you hear that?”

He listened for a moment. “Only the flames. Why? What are you hearing?”

Before she could answer, someone was shouting at them. It was one of the watchtower guards and he was running towards them.

“No! Turn back! Run! He’s coming back!” The guard flew past them, making for the city. In the next moment, a terrible roar shook the earth and a large, grey dragon dove through the cloud layer.

“Guards! Attack!” Irileth commanded, unsheathing her weapon. Sybil crossed the road to get closer to the watchtower. The guards began shooting arrows at it, but only a few seemed the stick. The dragon shot out fire, killing two of the guards. It then swept down and knocked everyone else, including Vilkas, down. She was the only one standing. It was amazing how quickly odds could change.

The dragon shot down another column of fire that surrounded her. She could vaguely hear Vilkas call her name. The heat didn’t bother her, it never had, but the smoke was beginning to gag her. The ground shook and she nearly fell backwards. She could hear heavy breathing, and felt her eyes widen when the dragon’s head appeared through the smoke. The head alone was nearly bigger than her.

It watched her with glowing red eyes. _Mirmulnir._ The name rattled around in her head, echoing over and over. The beast began to growl.

“Drun wah Lein,” she incanted, summoning forth her deadric sword. The growl got louder and flames sputtered out of its mouth a bit. She knew it was a warning, but she didn’t care.

Running forward, she jumped on the dragon’s head, holding onto one of its horns with her free hand while it struggled and snapped at her. She raised the sword and brought it down with all the strength she had, piercing through its skull. “ _Dovahkiin, no..”_ she heard it say as she jumped off the huge head. Now, she was amazed at how quickly a battle could end.

Sybil stared at the dragon’s corpse for a moment, a sense of mourning washing over her. She could hear the clanging of armor, but couldn’t see the guards, Vilkas, or Irileth through the thick screen of smoke. It felt as if she and the dragon were in a completely different world, disconnected from the realm of Mundus. She had an ominous feeling that the dragon had done that on purpose, that it had wanted it to just be them.

The corpse began to glow and caught fire. The scaly flesh flaked away, and the wispy chants she had heard in Bleak Falls started up again. The glowing, purplish wind rose from the dragon and whipped around her, driving deep into her soul. She closed her eyes, feeling the familiar warmth.

When she opened them again, the smoke that had surrounded her had been swept away and all that remained of the dragon were bones. She heard footsteps approaching from behind.

“Sybil, are you alright?” Vilkas asked. He sounded legitimately worried, and all the gruffness she’d gotten this morning and on the way out here was gone. She looked at him over her shoulder.

“I think so. Dragon is dead and I’m not. I’m pretty good,” she replied, looking back to the remains.

One of the guards advanced towards her. “I can’t believe it…You’re…Dragonborn,” he said, watching her in amazement.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“In the very oldest tales, back from when there were still dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. That's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed that dragon's power?” Other guards were gathering around her, making her feel nervous. _Funny. I can face a dragon but not a crowd of observers._

“I have no idea,” she answered truthfully.

“Try Shouting and we’ll know. Only the Dragonborn can do it without years of practice.” She nodded, but honestly had no idea what she was supposed to do.

She turned to where she wouldn’t accidentally hurt someone. She steadied her breathing and focused. Only one word came to mind.

“ _Fus.”_ Sybil staggered backwards and several rocks flew forward, almost hitting the walls of the tower. She looked around and was met with gawking faces. She saw that even Vilkas was amazed. “Did I do that?”

The Companion nodded.

“You truly are dragonborn,” one of the guards whispered.

“Alright! Everyone, listen up,” Irileth shouted. “We don’t have time for this. We’ve got fallen to attend to.” She looked at Sybil. “You’ll want to go speak to Jarl Balgruuf immediately.”

Sybil nodded and began walking back with Vilkas. “Well, you weren’t much help,” she stated.

Vilkas chuckled. “Yeah, sorry. I was busy being tossed aside by an overgrown lizard.”

“Don’t you start making excuses now.” She smirked and he rolled his eyes.

A few moments of silence passed, then Vilkas spoke up again. “You know, since your leg has healed, you can help around Jorvaskr.”

“Really?” He nodded.

“Yep. And you can start by scrubbing the mead hall from top to bottom. Give Tilma the day off.”

She froze in her tracks, and after a few more steps he stopped too, looking back at her. _“What?”_

He shrugged. “You should’ve listened.”

“So, you’re punishing me?”

“Yep.”

“But I was helping the Jarl!”

“So?”

She watched him disbelievingly. “You’re a dick.”

“Yes. A dick with higher ranking than you, whelp.” She realized that he was trying very hard to suppress a grin, and others might not have noticed it. He looked damn near bored, but she could see through it. _The bastard is having fun with this!!_

“Really? You’re pulling the fucking rank card on me?”

He had opened his mouth to answer when the ground shook with such force, they were both thrown on their asses.

“ _DOVAHKIIN!!!”_

There it was again. That word. Dovahkiin. Mirmulnir had called her that. “You called?” she muttered.

Vilkas groaned. “Why in Oblivion do I always get interrupted?” He stood, offering a hand to her. Still pissed at him, she ignored the offer and stood on her own. He just shrugged. “Be that way then. We should hurry back. See if the jarl knows what that was.”

“Let’s get moving then,” she said, already walking towards the stables. _After all this, I’m gonna have to clean the entire mead hall. That is if I don’t murder dickhead first._


	4. Fun Times While Cleaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short chapter. Enjoy.

_**Lordas, 24th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Afternoon)** _

 

Sybil furiously scrubbed the wooden floor of the mead hall. She was completely alone; everyone was either working a job, outside training, or downstairs. She was happy to help Tilma, the Companions’ maid. It was just the fact that Vilkas was using it as a punishment that was pissing her off. She had important things to do, like answering the Greybeards’ summons, but no, that was going to have to wait until tomorrow because _someone_ is an absolute dick. _That’s what I’m gonna call him from now on._

Her hair definitely wasn’t helping. The long, ruby locks kept falling into her face, making her stop every few seconds to fix it. She heard someone walking up behind her, and when she turned around, Aela was standing there with a thin, blue ribbon in her hands.

“Hold still,” she said, gathering up all the thick hair and pulling it into a ponytail. When she was done, Aela crouched down beside her.

“Thanks. That actually helps me a ton.”

“You're welcome,” the woman replied, smiling. “So, I heard you defeated a dragon. Is that true?” Aela leaned in as if she was about to be told a secret.

“Yes, and apparently, I’m Dragonborn. A Dragonborn that has to clean the entire mead hall before I can go on with my dragonborn duties. Just because Vilkas is mad that I went to help the jarl instead of resting.”

Aela laughed. “Well, I know he’s an ass at first, but he gets better once you really get to know him. He’s gonna be hard on you, definitely, and may seem a bit ridiculous sometimes. Making you clean the entire mead hall is a perfect example of that. But I do think you should’ve listened. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.” Sybil could see sincerity in her eyes.

Sybil raised an eyebrow. “Were you guys worried?”

“I wasn’t. I’ve seen you fight and know that you can handle yourself, but I think Kodlak was. Even if you haven’t been here for long, or aren’t officially a Companion, he still considers everyone in Jorrvaskr as family.” Aela looked around quickly and leaned in again. “And, just between us, I think Vilkas was even a bit worried.”

Sybil snickered. “You’re joking, right?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. He may not show it, but he cares about everyone in Jorvaskr almost as much as Kodlak does.” Sybil jumped when she heard the door to the training yard swing open. She saw Vilkas walk through, talking to Torvar. “Speak of the devil,” Aela whispered before standing to let them pass.

Vilkas looked down at Sybil as he passed. “Keep up the good work, Sybil,” he said in an almost sing-song tone.

“Go fuck yourself, dickhead,” she replied, matching the tone. Torvar gave her a surprised look, but Vilkas just chuckled and continued down the stairs.

“I swear, you’re the most fearless person I’ve ever met,” Aela commented.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because most of the whelps are either scared of Vilkas or extremely respectful of him. But you can just tell him to go fuck himself like it’s nothing.” Aela smirked. “Well, I guess I should leave you to your work. Have fun.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Sybil retorted. She sighed as the huntress walked beck downstairs, and set back to scrubbing the floor.

_It’s going to be a long afternoon._


	5. A Stay in the Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter!! YAY! I hope you enjoy!

**_Sundas, 25 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Mid-Afternoon)_ **

 

“Why do you insist on coming with me?” Sybil asked, catching Vilkas’s attention. She was looking around at the small town of Ivarstead, the sunlight giving her scarlet hair a halo of gold.

“Because Kodlak didn’t want you going alone.” She gave an aggravated sigh. “And there’s also a woman here that’s having trouble with bears,” he said casually. Her head whipped around, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Bears? You said nothing about bears on the way up here, Vilkas.”

“What? Are you really scared of bears? Come on, you defeated a dragon. Bears should be nothing for you.”

“Well, those fuckers are extremely deceptive,” she said. “They look like they wouldn’t be able to move that fast, but you piss one off and they fly at you. Plus, they usually hang out in caves. Cramped spaces aren’t really ideal when fighting something that big.” He laughed at her matter-of-fact tone.

“Then you really won’t like this place. Bears surround it.”

She groaned. “Are we going to be taking care of this problem before or after we go up to High Hrothgar?”

“I could stay down here while you go up there,” he said. He wanted to travel up the mountain, but seeing as she had a problem with bears, it would be better to handle the job while she was busy.

“No. There might be bears on the way up there, and I hate to say it, but I might actually need you.” Sybil walked ahead of him, her new fur cloak swishing behind her. They were approaching the mill at the center of town.

“It’s nice to know that I’m wanted,” he grumbled. “I guess we’ll go visit the Greybeards first. Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”

They neared a stone bridge where a man was standing, looking up the mountain. He smiled kindly when he noticed Sybil. “Are you two headed up the 7,000 steps, miss?”

Sybil returned the smile. “Yes, we are.”

“I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind carrying this bag of supplies with you?” He gestured to a large sack at his feet. “I usually bring food up to the Greybeards, but I’m getting on in my age. I just can’t make it up there this year.”

“Of course,” Sybil said sweetly. “Is there anything in particular I need to do with it when we get to High Hrothgar?”

“Just put it in the big chest out front, and they’ll come and get it. Thank you so much, miss.” The man held out the sack to her.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad to help,” she said, taking it. She watched as the man walked back into the town, then looked down at the bag. “Divines, this is heavy.”

“I can carry it for you,” Vilkas offered. She shook her head, and smirked.

“I’ve got a better idea.” She held the bag out a bit. “Ofan wah fin nil,” she incanted. The bag faded from existence, and Vilkas could only stare in shock. He jumped when he heard Sybil laugh. It was the first time he’d heard it. “Oh, wow. You should see the look on your face right now.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “How the hell did you do that?”

“With magic, obviously.”

“Oh, yes, I _totally_ didn’t catch that part. Thanks for clearing that up for me,” he said, sarcasm and annoyance dripping from every word.

“Calm down, dickhead. I’m just messing with you.” He couldn’t help but snicker at the nickname she’d given him. There was also dick, bastard, and fucker on the list so far. Where most would have been offended, he just thought it was amusing. He liked the fact that she was so bold. “It’s a spell that’s rarely used these days, mainly because it requires so much work. The literal translation of it is ‘Gift to the Void.’ I can’t remember what language it is, but I do know that it’s ancient. The spell itself took years to master; I’ve lost _countless_ things to the Void.”

“Where did you learn all this? You seem far too dangerous to be one of those College mages.” He wondered at how old she was. From the looks of it, she couldn’t have been over twenty-five, yet she seemed to be an expert in magic, with the robes to prove it.

“I actually did go to the College for a while,” she said, walking to the beginning of the 7,000 steps. The mountain was extremely intimidating and Vilkas hoped that they wouldn’t be running into threats left and right. Fighting on slopes like that could be disastrous. “I had been there from the time that I was ten to the time that I was nineteen. When I was young, the mages refused to teach me powerful magic, so for the first five years I read through every book in the library, which actually taught me a lot more than the mages ever could. Urag was amazed by how fast I could read, and on the day I turned fifteen he gave me a giant book of ancient spells. You just saw one of them.”

He watched her as she walked past the first wayshrine. Vilkas was curious about why she had gone to the College of Winterhold at such a young age, but decided that it was something too personal to ask about.

“You know, the College thought I was dangerous, too. At least, the arch-mage’s advisor thought I was. The bastard, Ancano was his name, convinced Savos that I was plotting to steal his position at any cost. So, since everyone was convinced that I was going to murder Savos or something, I was banished,” she said, bitterness and a hint of sadness invading her tone. “I think Urag was the only one that wasn’t totally convinced that I was the power-hungry maniac Ancano made me out to be.”

“You loved it there, didn’t you?”

“I did. It had become my home. However, I had been thinking about leaving for a while; I guess the banishment made it easier.” Vilkas was struck by how different she was right now. Earlier, she had been fiery and smart-mouthed, but now she was calm and serious, almost somber.

“Why were you wanting to leave?”

“I was interested in ancient magic. The College put so many restrictions on it that it was almost impossible to learn. As I said before, I learned most of my magic from the books, but I had to practice it in secret. What the mages taught me became repetitive, mostly because I specialized in destruction. They were especially controlling of that school of magic-” She was cut off by a long, low howl. Vilkas drew his sword, seeing two white wolves, but there was no need. Sybil had them burnt to crisps before he could take a single step.

“Damn,” was all he managed to say.

“-because they didn’t want their students to be capable of that,” she finished. “They believed it was too risky.” She took a deep breath, and her mood brightened a bit. “Come on, dick. At this rate, it’ll be dark before we get to the monastery.”

He didn’t even have a chance to say anything before she was walking away again, so he just shook his head and followed behind.

****************************************************************************************

Half an hour passed in total silence. Then, as Sybil had predicted, they ran into a bear. Well, more like the bear ran into them. The snow bear roared and was barreling down the slope, pissed off and blood thirsty. Vilkas had to give it to her, Sybil was right about their speed. They were fat as hell, but damn they could move.

It seemed to be particularly interested in Sybil, swiping at her and forcing her to precariously dodge every swing. She was too busy rolling out of the way to cast any spells, so he used the bear’s distraction to his advantage. He swung his greatsword at it, leaving a large gash in its backside. The bear reared up and he used the opportunity to angle his sword and stab it through its heart.

“Well, that was fun,” he said after the bear fell over, completely limp and lifeless.

Sybil scoffed, panting. “Oh, yes. Because I love to nearly be swatted off mountains by giant, raging snow bears. Most fun I’ve had in years.” She glared at him, but then her expression softened. “I guess I should say thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. Vilkas looked to the dead bear and sighed. “We should keep going.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do that.” She nodded. “Next thing you know, we’ll be running into trolls,” she grumbled, strolling on.

****************************************************************************************

 _She had to say something,_ Vilkas thought. The troll looked around, sniffing at the air, and charged when it noticed them. Vilkas went into his fighting stance and was preparing to swing at the creature when two large spears of fire flew over his head. They struck their target, exploding on contact.

He looked back to Sybil, unable to hide his surprise. She just smiled and shrugged. “You can just blow up a _troll,_ but you turn into a chicken with a bear,” he shouted over the harsh, snowy wind.

“Shut your face, ya bastard!” she yelled back, trudging towards him. “Get your ass in gear! We should be close by now!”

“Who are you to be shouting orders?”

“Apparently, I’m the motherfucking Dragonborn,” she said, grinning.

Vilkas chuckled. “Fine, miss Dragonborn. Lead on!” He let her pass him, and he watched as she lit a small flame in her hands, letting the tendrils of fire warm them.

After a few more turns, High Hrothgar came into view. The monastery was large and dark, standing out from the snow-covered ground and the emerging oranges and pinks of the sunset. The torches and braziers were lit, somehow impervious to the howling wind.

“Well, would you look at that. Warmth,” Sybil said. They walked up the first flight of stairs, and stopped at the chest.

“Are we leaving it in the chest or should we just carry it in?” Vilkas asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ll give it to them ourselves. Save them the trip,” she replied, already jogging up the steps.

They walked into the monastery, the door banging shut behind them and their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. There was a still, relaxing calm hanging in the air. A man in a hooded robe stood in the center of the room, looking as if he’d been expecting them.

After a moment of silence, Sybil cleared her throat awkwardly. “Um, hello. A man down in the town asked us to bring you supplies.”

The elder nodded. “Well that is very kind of you, Dragonborn. Tending to someone else’s needs before your own is honorable, a good quality to have. Where are these supplies Klimmek sent you with?”

“Oh, um, one moment.” Sybil held out her hand like before. “Drun wah Lein,” she whispered, and this time, Vilkas noticed that her emerald eyes glowed for a few seconds. The sack materialized in her hand and she was about to say something when the man interrupted her.

“What did you just say child?”

She seemed to become nervous under his stare. “I-I said drun wah Lein. It means-”

“Bring to Mundus,” the man said.

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“It is dovahzul, the language of the dragons. I honestly didn’t expect you to know any of it, other than the Shout.”

Sybil nodded. “Oh. I had learned it from a spell book when I was younger. May I ask your name, sir?”

“My name is Arngeir. I am one of the Greybeards.” He smiled kindly. “And, Dragonborn, you don’t have to be so formal.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, my name’s Sybil and this,” she gestured toward Vilkas, “is Vilkas, a friend.” Her last words were uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure why she’d said them. _Seriously? I wonder if she calls all her friends insulting names. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me._

The elder took the sack from her and set it against a nearby wall. “Yes, yes. It is nice to meet you, but would you be so kind as to show me the power of your thu’um?” Sybil looked around, visibly nervous again. Once again, he was struck by how different her character could be. It was only the second day he’d known her, but it felt like he’d already seen so many sides of her.

“Where? Surely not in here.” She cast another looked around the room. Vilkas leaned on his shoulder against the wall, watching the pair.

“Yes, in here will be fine. You don’t have to worry about hurting anyone, Dragonborn,” the man reassured. Vilkas noticed that three other hooded men were walking down the stairs. “Just stand in the center of the room and shout towards one of us. We must assess the strength of your thu’um.”

Sybil nodded and walked to the middle of the room. She then looked to the men and took a deep breath.

 _“Fus.”_ Vilkas felt as if he was forced back into the wall. The men staggered too, pushed back by the power.

"Remarkable. Dragonborn, we are so honored to welcome you to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny.”

“My destiny? What is my destiny?” Sybil asked.

“That is not for us to say. It will be up to you to decide. We will simply help you see a way.” The other three men remained silent and still.

“I’m eager to learn.”

Arngeir nodded. “You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps toward projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn. When you Shout, you speak in the language of dragons, which you already know a bit of. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you "Ro," the second Word in Unrelenting Force. "Ro" means "balance" in the dragon tongue. Combine it with Fus -- "Force" -- to focus your Thu'um more sharply.”

She learned the second word quickly and practiced on targets that the Greybeards conjured. Then, Arngeir said that they would be going to the courtyard.

Vilkas pushed off the wall to follow, but Sybil turned towards him. “No. You stay here. It’s cold out there.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden kindness. “Are you…being nice to me?” She rolled her eyes. “I thought I was an absolute dick,” he said, lowering his voice even though the monks were out of earshot.

“Yes. And you still are, so don’t let this little act of kindness go to your head, got it, dick?” She smirked at him.

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “I got it. Now, you might want to get going. You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” She nodded and walked out through the back doors.

Vilkas looked around, suddenly unsure of what to do. He decided to explore a bit; he’d probably never get a chance to see this place again. He strolled through the rooms, listening to the eerie echo of his footsteps.

In the western side of the monastery, past the Greybeards’ living quarters, he found a large library. Cobwebs covered almost everything in the room. _The monks obviously haven’t been big bookworms recently._ There was a dusty fireplace on the far side of the room and stocked bookshelves lined the walls. A round table sat in the center, several stacks of books sitting on top.

He jumped when he heard a door shut loudly.

“Vilkas? Guess what!” There was a short pause. “Where’d ya go?”

“I’m right here,” he answered, walking back down the hallway. Only two of the monks had come back in with her, and she looked excited.

“Oh, good. It’s getting late and Arngeir said that there was a large storm drawing near, so he offered to let us stay for the night. Is that good with you?”

Vilkas nodded. Her mood had changed so suddenly that it was almost unnerving. It was like she wasn’t Sybil anymore.

“Good because I was gonna stay either way.” _And there she is._

“Yeah, I should have expected that,” he grumbled.

She turned to Arngeir, smiling. “Where will we be sleeping?”

“We have extra beds. They’re rather easy to move, so if you want to stay in another part of the monastery, you can. I’d suggest that since Master Borri snores quite loudly.” Sybil chuckled lightly. “Do you have any idea of where you wanted to sleep, Dragonborn?”

Sybil turned back to Vilkas, raising an eyebrow. “You seemed to have been exploring, so what do you think?”

“There was a library back there-”

“A _library?_ ” Her smile grew.

He nodded and Arngeir spoke up. “You are welcome to stay there, but it hasn’t been used in years. It is quite dusty.”

“We’ll clean it.” Sybil didn’t even hesitate. _She must really love books to go through all that trouble. Wait-_

“We?” he asked.

Sybil whipped her gaze back to him, her fierce green eyes making him flinch. “Yes. _We_. We will be cleaning the library. Together.” _There’s no getting out of this._

“If only you’d been this eager to clean yesterday,” Vilkas muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, ‘At least I’m ready to clean today.’” He knew his recovery was lame.

“Mm. Sure you did.” Sybil smiled at Arngeir. “Will that be okay?”

“Of course, child. I could help, too.” The old monk smiled warmly.

“No, that won’t be necessary. You’ve already done more than enough by letting us stay,” Vilkas said kindly. “Come on, Sybil. We should go ahead and get started.” She nodded, thanked Arngeir, and followed Vilkas down the hall.

Syble walked around the perimeter of the room while Vilkas looked for a broom and a cloth to dust with. He found a pair of brooms leaning against the fireplace, and Sybil went to go get a few rags.

They worked for hours, dusting, airing the room out, and dusting and airing it out again. Sybil had been almost completely silent throughout the evening, seeming to be lost in thought as she cleaned.

Eventually, the room was practically spotless. A crackling fire had been made in the fireplace, the books on the table were put away and replaced with candles, and the two beds were pushed into the room. Rain was pouring onto the windows and there was an occasional clap of thunder.

“Are you sure you won’t get cold over there, Sybil?” He looked over to the woman as she sat down onto her bed, pushed into the corner farthest from the fire. She pulled off her cloak and layed it over the footboard.

“Yes, I’m sure. I sleep better when it’s cold, anyways,” she said, picking up a book that had caught her eye earlier and flipping through its ancient pages.

Arngeir walked into the room and looked around impressed. “Quite a job you two have done. This is the cleanest I’ve seen this room since I first came to High Hrothgar. I came to tell you that supper is prepared. You may join if you wish.”

“Thank you, Arngeir,” Sybil said sincerely.

“You are very welcome. It is an honor to assist the Dragonborn.” With that, he swept back out of the room.

Sybil looked over to Vilkas. She appeared weary. “I suppose we should go eat then. I don’t know about you, o’ great dickhead, but I’m starving.” She layed the book down on her bed and started for the door.

“How long are you going to keep this name calling thing up?” he asked as he followed behind.

“Oh, forever, you bastard.” She smiled sweetly at him with mischief dancing in her eyes.

“I don’t think you’ll be being so rude when I’m saving your ass from bears tomorrow, whelp.”

“Screw you,” she grumbled, walking on ahead of him.

_If the past two days have been any indication, working with her is going to be extremely interesting._

****************************************************************************************

**_Morndas, 26 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Just after Midnight)_ **

Sybil closed her eyes, trying to use the sound of the pounding rain to lull her to sleep. The drops hitting the windows made a constant, calming noise that flowed around her mind like a beautiful, yet hazy melody. The perfect lullaby.

But it wasn’t enough.

Sybil, giving up, opened her eyes and sighed. She wondered offhandedly about why it was raining instead of snowing so high up on a mountain. The room was as dark as pitch, but every few minutes a streak of lighting would fill it with nearly blinding light, leaving spots in her vision, causing the dull pain in her head to worsen.

If she focused hard, she could make out Vilkas’s shape in the darkness. She could hear him snoring. He, thankfully, wasn’t ungodly loud. She wouldn’t be able to stand it if he was.

She actually envied him a bit. Sybil couldn’t remember the last time she had a full night of undisturbed sleep. She’d toss and turn, but she could never get any peaceful rest. Sometimes it was because she was in a dangerous area and had to be extremely aware. Sometimes she had haunting nightmares. Sometimes she got these horrible headaches that seemed to last for hours, and nothing would stop them. She would always just have to push through the pain. _But according to Vilkas, toughing it out is dangerous._

Sybil sighed again and rolled towards the what should have been the wall, but was instead bookshelf. She smiled, running her fingers along the thin and thick volumes. She felt most at home in a library. The scent of old books, the feeling of being surrounded by hundreds of stories, made her feel safe. It gave her an escape.

An especially loud clap of thunder made her jump. The whole building shook. She heard a groan, followed by a yawn.

“Sybil?” Vilkas said into the darkness, his voice thick with sleep.

“Yes?” she replied quietly.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Vilkas.”

There was a long pause, and she’d thought he’d fallen back to sleep when he spoke again, his words still a bit slurred from sleep. “What time is it?”

“After midnight, most likely. Why?”

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” He sounded completely awake now.

She sighed once more. “I’ll get around to sleeping sooner or later. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” _Like pain._ She heard him sigh and silence followed, as if he was thinking. “Dickhead.”

“Yeah?”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Nah. I’m good.” His bed creaked loudly and a candle was lit. And then a second. And then a third. She looked over her shoulder and glared at him in the dim light. He sat down in one of the chairs and propped his feet up on the table.

Sybil rolled over and sat up. “Why?”

Vilkas shrugged. “What? Do you like staring into total darkness alone while a storm rages on outside? Is that a hobby of yours?”

“It seems that it has become one over the past few months,” she whispered. “Minus the raging storm bit. That doesn’t happen all the time.”

“So, would you like me to blow out the candles and go back to sleep?” Vilkas asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. No. You’re right, okay,” she confessed. “I don’t like being alone. But the darkness does help the headaches.”

“Headaches are keeping you up?”

“Yeah. Plus, a whole array of other things.” She decided to be honest right now. He was trying to be kind after all, it’s the least she could do. Besides, creating a convincing lie would take more brainpower than her headache would permit. “Sometimes it depends on the place, too. In this place, there’s a certain calm, a stillness. That’s why I wanted to stay here for the night so badly. That’s why I kind of forced you to help clean this place. I thought it would help. I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in weeks. I thought maybe, just _maybe,_ there would be some kind of relief, but nope. There’s none.”

Vilkas nodded, looking thoughtful. “Is there any way I could help?”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “You know, for an arrogant ass, you can be really nice and helpful when you want to be.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking earlier when you were being very amiable towards me.” They both laughed. “And yes, I can be kind, believe it or not. It’s an important characteristic of a Companion. What you did for that man today shows that you possess that trait. And at supper, you volunteered to help me with the bear problem even though you are particularly fearful of fighting them, which I don’t quite understand considering how powerful you are. But, hey, I’m not judging.” He held his hands up defensively when she shot a glare at him. “That action, taking on something you’re frightened by, shows bravery. Yet another important feature of a Companion.”

Sybil smiled. “You can be very wise, too. I think this is one of the few times you’ve been anything but a pain in the ass.”

He scoffed. “I could say the same for you.” After a moment, his expression softened. “Seriously, Sybil, is there anything I can do to help with your headaches and sleeping problems?”

“A swift kick to the head might stop the sleeping problems, but I have a feeling that it won’t help the headaches,” she replied, smiling. She began to think that Aela’s words did have some truth to them. Vilkas wouldn’t be asking if he could help if he didn’t care at least a bit; he wouldn’t be sitting up with her in the middle of the night because she was having trouble sleeping if there wasn’t at least a shred of worry.

“Sorry. I don’t believe I’ll be doing that. But I could get you a warm cup of milk? Or maybe another blanket?” He looked at her expectantly.

“Vilkas, I don’t think you’ll be able to get me a warm cup of milk all the way up here. And no thank you to the blanket. I definitely can’t sleep when it’s hot.” The headache was slowly ebbing away, surprising her. She would have thought that talking would only worsen the pain, but it seemed it was doing quite the opposite.

“What else can I do then?”

She smiled at his kindness. “I think you’ve already done plenty. Just sitting up and talking for a while has helped. My headache is almost gone, in fact. You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll try to get some myself.”

Vilkas raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He nodded, blew out the candles, and caused a lot of ruckus on his way back to his bed, tripping over things, apparently stubbing his toe on something, and eventually missing his bed altogether. Sybil couldn’t control her laughter as she heard crashes and strings of curses. Finally, there was the sound of the bed creaking as he laid down.

“You can just shut it, Sybil,” he ordered, but the tone had no bite in it. Eventually she was able to smother the giggles and catch her breath.

Minutes passed in silence. It was as if a veil of exhaustion was draped over her, and she began fading into unconsciousness. Before she fell asleep, she looked towards the direction of his bed.

“Thank you, Vilkas,” she whispered into the darkness.

“You’re welcome, Sybil.”


	6. A Girl with a Knife

**_Morndas, 26 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Around Noon)_ **

 

Vilkas sat bolt upright, gasping with icy water dripping from his hair and soaking his linen shirt. His head whipped around when he heard Sybil’s laugh; she was holding a bucket and smiling devilishly.

“Rise and shine, buttercup! Those bears aren’t gonna hunt themselves!” she announced cheerfully.

“Are you fucking insane?!”

“Most likely.” She shrugged.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he growled.

Sybil turned and set the bucket onto the table. “You should be grateful. I was considering throwing the bucket,” she said, looking back over her shoulder and smirking. “Besides, you wouldn’t wake up. I’ve spent the last half hour trying.”

“It’s bad that you even considered throwing it,” he grumbled, standing. He wasn’t surprised that it was hard for her to wake him. After he’d learned about her sleeping problem, he lied awake, staring into the pitch darkness while trying to think of a way of helping her. He had an idea of where to start.

“Get your armor on. We’ll be eating breakfast when we get back to town,” she said as she swept out of the room, her fur coat flowing behind her.

Vilkas shook the water out of his hair and wrung out his shirt. Once he finished strapping on his armor, he headed to the entrance hall. Sybil was standing in the middle of the room, looking over a worn, leather bound book. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up from the ancient pages.

“What’s that?” he asked, gesturing to the book.

“It’s a spell book I found last night. There’s mainly just general alteration spells, but I did find one that looks pretty useful. You probably aren’t gonna like it, though.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a teleportation spell.”

“You’re right, I don’t like it. You are definitely insane if you think I’m gonna let you teleport me wherever when you have no experience with it,” he deadpanned.

She smirked. “Well, if we do get lost in oblivion, or maybe even the Void, at least we’ll have each other.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help at all.”

She mocked an offended look, but then a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Fine. You can just walk down the freezing mountain alone with soaked hair. By the way, the Greybeard’s said that that last night’s rain froze, so the mountain is covered with ice. _Very_ treacherous. Apparently, it happens often during the summer months. I guess I’ll meet you at the tavern in town.” Sybil turned back to the book as if they hadn’t even spoken.

Vilkas sighed. Going down the ice-covered mountain was dangerous and stupid, but he _really_ did not want to be subjected to a spell that Sybil had just found and never practiced.

“I’m probably gonna regret this,” he muttered. “Alright, whatever. Let’s do this.”

He saw her grin, and she spun back towards him. “Good. And I wanted to let you know that the Greybeards want me to get something called the Horn of Jürgen Windcaller, and I wanted to get that done as soon as possible. So, would you let Kodlak know that it’ll be a bit before I come back to Whiterun?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Okay. Stand across from me,” she said, pointing. He did as he was told. “So, this should be very simple. I just have to say two little words and then the place I want to go, and that should be it.”

“Just get it over with,” he grumbled.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Fastr fara: Ivarstead.”

Vilkas saw her eyes glow brightly, and then black, misty tendrils wrapped around him until there was absolutely nothing but darkness surrounded him. There was absolute silence and stillness. Nothingness. Then he could hear rushing water, singing birds, and chattering people. Finally, the mist receded, the shining sun blinding him. They had appeared by the mill.

“Holy shit,” Sybil said, leaning against the bricks of the mill and looking faint. Vilkas walked towards her, offering help, but she waved him off. “I’m fine. That was just _very_ different, and it took a lot out of me.”

After she’d caught her breath, he and Sybil met the mill owner and were filled in on the bear problem. Two hours and seven bears later, they were done, both unharmed. Sybil had actually helped quite a lot. Mainly because the bears always seemed focused on her, giving him time to attack. Once they’d let the woman know that the bears were dead, they went to the tavern.

Sybil was quiet, staring at the wall thoughtfully while she sipped her mead. She hadn’t touched her food.

“You alright?” Vilkas asked, catching her attention. Her eyes seemed clouded for a second, but then cleared. Her red hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a thin blue ribbon Aela had apparently given to her. Several loose strands framed her face.

“Yeah, yeah. Just thinking,” she said, looking tired. He wondered just how much that spell had taken out of her. His thoughts were interrupted by her standing. “I should get going. I’ve got a horn to fetch.”

Vilkas nodded. “Okay. Be careful, Sybil.”

“I will.” She smirked. “Thanks for coming with me, dickhead.”

He smiled, watching her walk out of the building. After a while, he left the tavern, starting on the walk back home.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Sybil walked along the road south of Lake Geir, listening to the birds and enjoying the cool breeze. She could see the shimmering lake waters, just a silver sliver on the horizon. Ahead of her a ways were ruins. She summoned her deadric sword just in case there were bandits.

As she neared the ruins, she noticed that everything was silent and nothing moved. But then she heard a sound, like a whimpering child. Sybil looked around and followed the noise. There was a large bush near the ruins and the whimpering seemed to be emanating from behind it. _Unless a bush has learned to cry, that must be a child._

She lowered her weapon slightly and slowly circled to the other side. Her eyes widened.

Standing before her was a young girl that couldn’t have been older than twelve. She was holding a small iron dagger and the bottom of her dress was splattered with blood. Behind her was the source of the whimpers, a small blonde boy. He was so small and young and pitiful that Sybil felt her heart twist.

Then her attention was brought back to the girl with the knife. Sybil was going to try to calm her, but the girl spoke first.

“I won’t let you kill us. I won’t let you kill us like they killed mamma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! I know it's short, but it introduces some big stuff. I hope all you lovely people enjoyed this! By the way, "Fastra fara" is Norse for fast travel.


	7. Note To Self: Explosions Cause an Alarming Amount of Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's one in the morning where I am, this is a really long chapter, and I'm exhausted. There's gonna be some errors, hopefully only small ones, but either way, I'm really sorry. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! Also, there is some pretty explicit violence in this chapter.

**_Morndas, 26 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Mid-Afternoon)_ **

 

Sybil watched the children as they walked along, the young boy rubbing his eyes sleepily and holding onto his big sister’s hand. The three of them were nearing the gates of Riften. She wondered what could have happened to the kids.

After Sybil had convinced the girl to put the knife down by assuring her that they were safe, it was as if she completely shut down. Sybil had asked them what had happened, but the boy kept crying and the girl remained silent. Not really knowing what she should’ve done, she asked if they would like to come to Riften with her, and the girl gave a small nod. They would stay with her since she wouldn’t allow them to fall into the clutches of that gods-forsaken orphanage, even though she killed the ironically named headmistress a few weeks back.

They looked as if they’d been to Oblivion and back, and she would do everything to ensure they didn’t have that look again. She would have the entire Guild to watch over them when she was gone if that’s what she had to do. It felt as if seeing them had triggered every protective and maternal bone in her body.

As Sybil led them through the city gates and down the alley to Honeyside, the girl’s words ricocheted through her mind. _I won’t let you kill us like they killed mamma. Divines, what have these children been through?_

They walked through the front door, the interior warmth clashing with the odd chill Riften possessed year-round. Sybil cast a quick glance around her kitchen and conjoined room. Iona still hadn’t turned up; the housecarl had been missing for a whole month, and Sybil was whirling with worries over her.

She turned when she felt a slight tug on her robes, and saw the small boy holding onto them. He was looking up at her with beautiful hazel eyes that made her heart melt. She wondered how old he could be; surely not any older than four. He was so small. In fact, they both were rather short. Their features and fair hair told her that they were Nords, but their height and eye color said otherwise.

Her wandering mind was snapped back by the child yawning. “Can we go to bed, mommy?” he asks, his voice light and adorable. _Wait, mommy?!_

“She isn’t our mother, Calum,” the girl snapped, crossing her arms defensively. Calum frowned and looked back to his sister.

“But-but she looks like mommy?” The sentence came out as a question. The girl only let out a sharp, aggravated huff, and Calum turned back to Sybil, his head tilting to the side slightly. “Can I call you mommy?”

She had no idea what to do. The girl seemed really bothered, and rightfully so. Sybil didn’t like the idea of giving off the impression that she was replacing their mother. That was the last thing she wanted; it just wasn’t right for someone to do that.

But the sad, almost pleading look in the boy’s eyes was really making her want to give him anything he asked for. Sybil wondered if he really knew what had happened to his mother. She wondered if his young mind just couldn’t understand it, or if someone had kept him from knowing.

She looked from the Calum to the girl and back again. Not knowing what else to tell him, she hesitantly said, “If you want to.” The boy beamed up at her, but she heard the girl sigh. Sybil looked up at her, feeling horrible. “Listen, you guys can stay here. You’ll be safe, I promise. But I want you to know that I’m not gonna try to replace your mother. You can call me anything you want, from Sybil to…” She waved her hand in the air, trying to think of a word, until she glanced to the cupboard. “...to lettuce, if you want.”

The boy yawned again, and she realized they were going to need a place to sleep. _I’ll have to talk to Anuriel about that._

“You two can sleep in my bed,” she said, gesturing to the queen-sized bed behind her. “I’m sure you’re both exhausted.” The boy toddled over to the bed, and Sybil lifted him onto it when she saw him struggling to climb up. She looked back to the girl, seeing her hesitate for a moment, but eventually joining her brother.

Sybil went to the windows, drawing the curtains to block out the afternoon light, when she realized something.

“Will you tell me your name?” she asked softly, locking gazes with the girl.

“Corliss,” was her short reply before she lied back down. _Corliss and Calum. Beautiful names…_

Within minutes the children were out cold. Sybil took the chance to slip out of the house and back into the city. She had been planning to stop into the Guild before she headed for the horn, but now she had more important reasons to double-time it there.

She climbed down the ladder to the Cistern, letting go about five rungs from the bottom and landing silently on her feet. Turning around swiftly, Sybil collided with a surprised Brynjolf, nearly making her fall.

“Woah there, lass,” he said, steadying her. He looked her up and down, furrowing his eyebrows. “Are you alright? I haven’t seen you in over a week.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I was just doing a job in Morthal for Delvin and got injured on the way back. Then there was an Imperial ambush, a big ass dragon, and tons of other shit that I’ll have to tell you about later. We have more important things to discuss.” She told him everything from the time she came across the child, told him as much as she knew about what had happened, and was about to ask him to keep them protected when Mercer Frey walked over, apparently having noticed her return.

Mercer had his usual look of annoyance plastered on his face. “Finally, someone that’ll be able to get a job done around here.”

Brynjolf turned to the man, raising an eyebrow and looking defensive, but remained silent. Sybil could tell that his patience was wearing thin with Mercer.

Mercer, apparently oblivious to Brynjolf’s sassy stance, continued talking. “I need you to go to Goldenglow Estate. The owner has shut Maven and us out. I need you to go in there and teach him a lesson. Brynjolf, fill her in on everything. I have more important things to get to.” Mercer, rude as always, just walked off.

“He really pisses me off sometimes,” Brynjolf grumbled when he was out of earshot. “Sorry that you immediately got a huge job dumped on you, lass.”

Sybil shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s not like it’s unusual for Mercer to do that.” She and Brynjolf would just have to finish their earlier conversation later. “So, lay it on me. How bad is this gonna be?”

“Probably not that bad for you, if I’m honest. Then again, Vex couldn’t even get in there. You might want to talk to her.” She nodded and asked what she needed to do. “Clear out his safe and burn down three of the beehives. Only three, though. We want to send a message, not throw a wrench in Maven’s business. It’s where she gets most of the honey for the meadery.”

“Alright. Seems easy enough. I’ll go see what Vex can do for me.” He wished her luck, and she headed to the Flaggon.

****************************************************************************************

Sybil scanned the bridge and the fortified gate at the end of it. She could see several mercenaries standing watch on a rock overhang to the right of it.

Vex told her that Aringoth had tripled the guard, and that she should go through the unguarded sewer entrance. The only problem with that plan is that she’d have to swim to get to it, and fighting in sopping wet armour wasn’t very appealing. So, she decided that it would probably just be easier to blow her way through.

She had gone back to the house to check on the children, and luckily, they were still fast asleep. Sybil had changed into her Guild armour, not wanting to risk it getting torn. Those robes were expensive, and she didn’t want to waste her energy on a ward spell.

After a few moments two of the three guards walked off, giving her a better chance of catching them by surprise. Sybil walked to the center of the bridge, summoning a long, flaming spear in her hands. She concentrated and the flames grew larger, brighter. After a moment, she drew it back and threw it with great force. The explosion that followed rocked the ground, obliterating the gate and part of the wall around it.

She heard a few ridiculously high-pitched screams as she calmly walked through the flames. She had always been completely impervious to them, all they did was leave a warm glow in their wake. It made for some very hilarious reactions from the smug High-Elf mages that made the mistake of lobbing a fireball her way.

Sybil cut and burned her way through the mercenaries. Most of them were so terrified that they attempted to run. Soon, she made it to the bee hives, and used more controlled, non-explosive flames to burn only three of the six there. The resulting plumes of smoke joined the one from the decimated entrance, reaching incredible heights.

Eventually, she fought her way through the house, being sure not to accidentally send it up in flames. Strolling through the door to Aringoth’s room, she heard his panicked breathing. She found him cowering beside and end table with a dagger in hand.

“Really? This your best hiding spot?” she asked sarcastically. The Wood-Elf stared nervously at her deadric sword.

“I knew Mercer wasn’t going to let me get away with this. I had no choice, I swear!”

“I just want the keys to the basement and safe. Hand ‘em over.”

He shakes his head furiously. “I can’t do that! I may as well be asking for death.”

Sybil gave an aggravated sigh. “Fine, whatever. I don’t have time for this. I’ll just unlock them myself.”

“No! I won’t let you people destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for,” he yelled, lunging at her. He was a lot stronger than she had anticipated, but she was able to easily evade him. One quick, well-aimed swing at his throat made him crumple to the floor, gurgling and twitching as he bled out. She retrieved the keys, and made a swift sweep of the room, grabbing some gold and a bee statue.

She whirled her way through the basement, killing the mercenaries that tried to stop her. After she cleared the safe, she backtracked out of the house, opting not to go through the rank smelling sewer exit. The dark smoke plume against the cheery blue summer sky was unsettling, making her do a quick double take as she walked out of the door.

The walk back to the city was filled with absolute calm compared to the destruction that took place moments ago. She didn’t like these moments of post-battle calm. They unnerved her, forced her to think about the lives she took. Sybil found it ironic that she was an assassin and a thief. She always felt remorseful afterwards, and the faces of the dead would usually visit her in her nightmares for the following weeks, no matter if they were a nobleman or a bandit.

Sybil welcomed the bustling noise of Riften, and she quickly made her way to the hidden Thieves’ Guild entrance. She found Brynjolf in the Flaggon and a look of concern was plastered onto his face.

“I was just in the city, and saw the giant cloud of smoke. _Please_ tell me you didn’t burn the entire estate down,” he said, his tone stressed.

She gave a disapproving look. “Oh, yeah. I decimated the place. I _totally_ went completely against the orders.” Sarcasm was dripping from every word, but he still looked a bit worried. “I followed the orders to the letter. There’s only a shit ton of smoke because I may or may not have blown the front gate to smithereens. Seriously, Bryn, I expected you to have more faith in me than that,” she said with an aggravated huff.

“I do have faith in you, lass. It was just alarming. And then there was the fact that Mercer was all over my ass, saying that you had screwed us all if you really did burn everything. I was barely able to calm him down and convince him that you had everything under control.”

“Should I expect to get my ass jumped?”

“Depends on what you found.” Sybil handed him the letter from the safe. She hadn’t had the chance to read it, so she got worried as she watched Brynjolf’s eyes widen with every line.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The idiot’s gone and sold Goldenglow. He has no idea how furious Maven will be,” he informed, shaking his head in disbelief.

 _Shit._ “Yeah, about that,” she said casually, making him give a suspicious look. “He doesn’t need to worry. He’s too dead to.”

“Well, Maven probably would’ve killed him anyway knowing this. You saved her the trouble.”

“Too bad,” she muttered. She absolutely despised Maven, and Sybil knew that the feeling was mutual. Maven was a bitch with too much money and an ego complex.

“Do you have any idea what this symbol is? It’s there in place of the buyer’s name.” Sybil shook he head. “Damn. I’ll have to check in with some sources and, unfortunately, Mercer.”

“Very unfortunate,” she whispered, smirking. “Good luck with that.”

“I’m afraid you’re the one that’s gonna need luck. You have to go meet with Maven at the Bee and Barb. She asked for you specifically.”

Sybil groaned. “Do I have a chance of coming out alive?”

“Hopefully. I heard that she seemed pretty upset though. Maybe she thinks you burned the entire estate, too.”

“Ugh, fine. If I’m not back within the hour, take care of the kids for me,” she said, getting up and leaving through the Cistern.

The Bee and Barb was nearly completely empty. Keerava glared at her as she made her way to the stairs. Maven was sitting in a small nook. She smiled as Sybil neared her, but it was a cold, “I really want to kill you” kind of smile.

“Well, I hope the fact that you chose to show your face means that you didn’t annihilate Goldenglow.” Her tone was kind, but Sybil could hear the stark anger in her voice.

“You know I don’t fuck up my jobs, Maven,” Sybil snapped, sitting in the chair opposite the raven-haired woman. “Now, I don’t have time for conversation; I have more important things to do. So, tell me what you want.”


	8. Oppositional Foreclosure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel horrible for not updating for so long. Life's just been a bit hectic lately. I'm so sorry for the delay, but please enjoy chapter eight!

**_Tirdas, 27 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Evening)_ **

Sybil walked through the streets of Whiterun, making her way to the Bannered Mare. The long, crooked shadows of twilight stretched out toward her as if they were grasping for her feet and the ends of her mage robes, wanting to drag her into their realm of gloom. Skyrim’s dusks always teetered between creepy and mystifying, every one bring something new. The purple twilights had always been her favorite times.

A little girl ran past her being chased by a young boy, reminding her of Corliss and Calum. Sybil had spent most of last night going over mental checklists to ensure that the children would be comfortable for far longer than she would be gone. Brynjolf had agreed to bring them food and check up on them daily and had tried to assure her that there would be nothing to worry about to no avail.

The children didn’t really like the idea of her leaving. Well, Calum didn’t like it. Corliss just remained silent. She told them that she would be back in a few days and let them know that she would be sending Lydia, her housecarl as of four days ago, ahead of her. Having someone with them 24/7 would definitely put her mind at ease.

Sybil could hear singing and jolly laughter ringing out as she walked through the side door that led into the Mare’s kitchen. The sweet smell of mead filled the inn’s air, mingling with the savory scent of cooking meat. Her grumbling stomach made her realize she’d been so worried about the children that she’d completely forgotten to eat all day.

“Dammit, can’t a man have a drink in peace around here,” a male voice said, making her head whip around to its source. A long-haired man was sitting at a table in the corner, a tankard in his hand. He looked bored, almost as if he was expecting something interesting to happen. _You must be Mallus._

“Apparently, I was expected,” she replied, matching his bored tone. Realization dawned in his eyes.

“So, you’re the one Maven was sending. Interesting.” His eyes slid up and down her figure, creeping her the hell out.

“Hey, buddy. My eyes are up here,” Sybil snapped.

“Well, well, well. Beautiful and fiery. I like it.” She glared daggers at him. _I hope I never have to work with him again._ “What? You don’t like being called fiery?”

“Not really. Too many people call me that because I enjoy burning people to crisps for funsies. It gets aggravating after a while.” She smiled sweetly as the color drained from his face.

“I guess we should make this quick,” he said, clearing his throat. “Tomorrow afternoon, Sabjorn will be hosting a tasting for the Captain of the Guard. You need to get in there, pose as an innocent wanderer looking to help with his rat problem, and drop the rat poison he’ll give you into the vat. It’s simple, really. After you’ve poisoned the vat, come back to the tavern to collect your payment from Sabjorn and watch the tasting.”

“Alright then. Is that all?”

“Yep. You can run along to your people roasting hobby now.” Mallus was noticeably shaken by her earlier comment. _Maybe I should use it on other pesky guys._

Sybil suppressed a laugh as she walked back out into the cool evening air. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and the two moons were just rising above it. The green, blue, and purple aurora danced in the sky, casting a mist-like veil across the stars.

After a moment of enjoying the summer’s night air, she headed to Jorrvaskr.

Warm lights were glowing in the windows, making the mead hall look homey and inviting. Blocking out Heimskr, she walked up the stairs. Aela’s head swiveled toward her when she walked through the door. The huntress hurried over.

“Sybil! Vilkas said that you probably wouldn't be back for another couple of days,” Aela said smiling, her eyes questioning.

“I had to make a run to Riften. I'll have to leave again in a day or two.”

Aela looked disappointed. “Damn. Well you should join us while you're here. Farkas was just telling us about a job he did today,” she informed, gesturing to the large table in the center of the room. A man that looked similar to Vilkas smiled charmingly at her. The warm fire looked inviting, but Sybil was exhausted.

She shook her head. “I can't, sorry. I'm completely drained.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Go get some rest.” As Sybil began to head toward the stairs, Aela called, “Goodnight, Sybil. See you in the morning.”

She pushed through the intricately designed door, and, not paying attention, collided with Dickhead, making him drop his drink. It shattered on the stone floor.

“Well, shit,” he mumbled. He looked up from the broken bottle and seemed startled when he realized who he'd run into.

“Sorry,” she said, not really in the mood to think of insulting names she could call him.

“Oh, it's fine. Don't worry about it. What are you doing back so soon?” Sybil told him the same thing she'd told Aela. He nodded and seemed to remember something. “I need to give you something. Follow me.”

Before she could protest, he was walking down the large hall. Vilkas took a quick right and then another into a bedroom. He grabbed two potion bottles off his dresser and turned to her.

“You mentioned you were having trouble with sleeping and headaches, so I had Arcadia make something to help. This one,” he said, holding up a blue bottle, “is a sleep aid. I think she said it had feverfew and lavender extracts.” He handed it to her and held up the red bottle. “This one's for headaches. It has valerian and passion flower extracts. She said to just take a sip of one of them when you need it, and that you can stop by anytime when you need more, or she could teach you how to make them.”

Sybil stared at the bottles in her hand, not really sure what to say. She looked up him and smiled genuinely. “Thank you, Vilkas. You have no idea how much this’ll help.”

He returned a smile of his own. “It was nothing. Now, I won’t hold you up any longer; you can go on to bed.” She nodded and thanked him again as she walked out of the room.

Sybil walked into the recruits’ sleeping area, finding it peculiar that with all the people in Jorrvaskr, if sounded eerily quiet. The only noise was Vilkas’ footsteps and the sound of the door banging shut behind him.

She sat down on one of the beds, setting the red bottle on the nightstand and taking a sip out of the blue one. The liquid was soft, warm, and sweet, sending a gentle buzz throughout her body. She lied down and stared up at the ceiling, flickering shadows dancing across it in the dim candlelight. Every bit of soreness and worry left her as her body relaxed, and she was drifting off into a deep slumber within moments.

****************************************************************************************

**_Middas, 28 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Around 10AM)_ **

Sybil sat bolt upright, feeling freezing and sopping wet. Her eyes darted around and found Vilkas with a smug smile on his face, bucket in hand.

“You son of a-”

“Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?” he asked, cutting her off. She gaped up at him, then finally recalled what she’d done a few days ago. She wouldn’t deny that she deserved it. Either way, she was pissed.

“You can shove that karma where the sun doesn’t shine,” Sybil snapped as she stood. Vilkas laughed, but raised an eyebrow in confusion when she snapped her fingers. Fiery wind whirled around her, forcing him to jump back. She was completely dry in seconds.

He stared at her in something close to amazement. “I really should’ve expected something like that, honestly,” he mumbled. “Okay. Well, now that you’re dry I suppose we can start on your training.”

Sybil hesitated, remembering that she had a job to do. “What time is it?”

“A bit before noon. You were in a really deep sleep. That’s part of why you woke up to water, too.”

“I need to go somewhere this afternoon. Do you think I could take a raincheck on that training?”

He watched her suspiciously, seeming to consider her request. “How ‘bout no,” he deadpanned.

“Please-”

“Nope. We’ve got a few hours before the afternoon. Plenty of time for training.” His arctic blue eyes burrowed into her with an almost hypnotic intensity. It felt like it was the first time she saw how attractive they were.

Not really feeling like arguing, she conceded.

They trained for hours. Vilkas said that although she was skilled with a sword, she needed practice using a shield. He grumbled several times about having to get a new shield since she’d broiled his last one.

Sybil didn’t like using a shield. They were big and bulky, hindering her in areas of speed and stealth. When she voiced these complaints, Vilkas told her that she should still know how to properly use one, at least as a last resort. He taught her how to perfect her stance, how to block several different types of attacks, and how to strike back.

She thought back to what Aela had said, that he'd push her. She definitely wasn't wrong. At this rate, her lungs would be burning and every muscle in her body would be sore when they were done.

Finally, he let her get on with her day. The first thing she did was go to Dragonsreach to tell Lydia that she should head for Riften. After that, she started for the meadery.

The air was humid, clinging to her skin. Dark clouds were on the horizon, moving quickly towards the city; a summer storm was on its way. The scent of mead brewing grew stronger as she neared Honningbrew, but she was assaulted with the smell of dead vermin when she entered the building. Three dead skeevers were lying in the flood.

“What are you gawking at? Can’t you see I have problems here?” An angry looking man stood in front of the counter, glaring at her.

“Well, yeah, buddy. You definitely have some problems. One being your damn attitude,” she retorted, not wanting to really deal with people after the rigorous training session Vilkas had put her through. The man drew back with an offended look.

“Whatever. What do you want?”

“What I really want is for you to lose the pissy tone, but I doubt that’ll ever happen. I had heard that you had an infestation, and I thought that you may want some help.”

The man was quiet for a moment, looking her over. “And I suppose you aren’t just going to do this out of the kindness of your heart? You won’t be paid until the job’s done.”

“You do realize that most people in Whiterun know about the Captain’s tasting today, right? If you don’t pay in advance, I’ll yell “skeever.” Then your little business will be in _big_ trouble.” Sybil wasn’t feeling particularly friendly today.

“Fine, fine. I’ll pay you half now and half when the job’s done,” he said, nervously holding out a bag of coins. “Happy?”

“Absolutely.”

“And take this poison. Plant it in their nest and it will permanently clear these disgusting vermin. Now hurry before the captain gets here.” He waved her away dismissively and went behind the counter to clean some tankards.

Sybil went into the side area, and, after a few moments wandering, she found the basement door. After killing a few skeever’s and a madman and planting half of the poison in the nest in the dank cave-like tunnels, she entered the meadery.

The air was thick and hot with a bittersweet smell. She searched the room for gold and any other valuables. She took the stairs two at a time, and, finding the only brewing vat, she dumped the remaining half of the poison into it. After _several_ more minutes of searching for the key, she left the building. Cool drops of rain hit her face.

She ended up intercepting Commander Caius on his way in. He held the door open for her and smiled kindly. She almost felt bad for poisoning him. She hoped it wouldn’t end up actually killing him; it’s bad for business. At least for the Thieves’ Guild it is.

Sabjorn looked alarmed to see them but quickly recovered. Mallus was standing to the side, a devilish grin on his face. Apparently, he never learned how to be inconspicuous. _Where on Nirn did Maven get this guy? He’s incredibly annoying and reckless._

Sybil hardly listened as Sabjorn and the captain talked for a moment. She was too busy worrying about the children. She wondered if Brynjolf was really checking in on them, if they were eating well, if they were sleeping enough, and an infinite list of other things.

“Here, captain. Enjoy,” Sabjorn said, handing over a tankard. The frothy drink nearly splash over the rim. Sybil watched calmly as the officer drank half of the mead down. Almost instantly, he was doubled over coughing.

“What the hell?!” Caius exclaimed after his fit. “What the hell is in this shit?!”

Sabjorn looked terrified and confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, milord! What-what’s wrong?”

“You told me this meadery was clean! You’re coming with me. You’ll be clapped in irons for the rest of your days,” he ordered angrily. “Now move!”

“P-please no! I don’t understand!”

“I. Said. _Move._ ” Caius followed closely behind Sabjorn, pushing him forward. The elder looked terrified and threw an angry glare in her direction as they walked out of the door.

“Goodbye, Sabjorn. Hello, Black-Briar,” Mallus said in a sing-song tone as he walked behind the counter. “Good work clearing the vermin. The rats _and_ Sabjorn.” The lusty glint returned to his eyes. She gave him a disgusted glare.

“I’m going to look through his crap. Maven has some other unfinished business,” she said as she walked back into the side room. The stairs creaked as she made her way up them. She swept his room, grabbing a decanter. She broke several picks when she tried to open his strongbox, but eventually managed to get it open, grabbing the letter and gold inside.

She could her rain pounding the roof as she made her way back to the front door. _Great._

Reluctantly, she opened the door. She ran through large puddles as she headed back to Whiterun. By the time she arrived at Jorrvaskr, she was completely soaked and freezing.

No one beside Tilma was in the mead hall. The woman smiled and explained that most of the Companions were working jobs, except for Kodlak and Skjor. Sybil sat at the end of the large table, letting the fire dry her normally. The spell she’d used earlier usually wore her out. She needed to use it sparingly.

“Ah, there’s our newest member,” a gravelly male voice said cheerfully. She turned to see Kodlak walking behind her and sitting in an adjacent chair. “I heard that you and Vilkas travelled to High Hrothgar. I climbed those 7,000 steps once. How was your journey?”

She smiled at him. “Well, there were some wolves, a bear, and a troll. It actually sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.” The harbinger chuckled. “But it was nice. The monastery was a big change from normal life in Skyrim.”

“It’s a lot calmer, isn’t it?”

She nodded, flinching when she heard the door swing open and crash against the wall. Farkas and Torvar standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Um, sorry about that. Wind’s a bit strong,” Torvar said as they walked towards the fire, only sounding slightly drunk. The two men were soaked, tracking water and mud in behind them. “You’ll never guess what just happened, Kodlak.”

The elder raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Nothing unfortunate, I hope.”

“Oh, it’s bad. Commander Caius was bringing in Sabjorn for something he did at the meadery. He started coughing real hard; blood even came up. Suddenly, he just killed over. The captain’s dead.”

_That can’t be possible! Even if the amount of poison was lethal, it shouldn’t have killed that quickly. I’m gonna be in a **lot** of trouble with the guild…_

“Divines, that’s horrible. Caius was a good friend and an honourable warrior,” Kodlak said quietly. His eyes were solemn, but the anger she usually saw in grieving eyes was nonexistent. “I must retire now.” The man stood silently and left back down the stairs.

“Well, I’m gonna go get completely wasted. Nice seeing ya, lady who nearly burned off my hair,” Torvar remarked as he followed behind the harbinger, leaving Sybil, Farkas, and Tilma alone.

The other Companion looked extremely intimidating. He was incredibly tall and muscular. If Sybil stood next to him, she knew he would have towered over her even more than Vilkas did. He flashed the same charming smile he had the night before. His eyes were a darker blue than Vilkas’. They held the same attractive intensity, but weren’t as piercing as his brother’s.

His long, shaggy hair continually dripped as he sat down next to her. Sybil felt tiny and almost scared from just sitting beside him.

“So,” she said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in the room, “Tilma said that you were working a job. What was it?”

“Saber tooth managed to sneak its way through the city and into Belathor’s shop. The little man was terrified.”

“I’d be scared, too, if an oversized cat was in my shop. Mostly because I’m allergic to cats, but you get the point.”

He chuckled, but then shifted his inky blue eyes to her bright green ones. His expression turned suspicious, making her nervous. “I saw you leaving the city pretty quickly earlier. Had somewhere important to be?”

Her breath hitched. “Not really,” she said nonchalantly, tying to create a lie to tell him. She didn’t really want to be put at the scene the captain had been poisoned at. Sybil had never worried much about getting caught, but the Companions didn’t seem very tolerant of thieves and assassins. Unfortunately, Caius wasn’t a contract from Astrid, so she probably wouldn’t be getting paid by either guild. “There was a group of bandits nearby that the jarl had a bounty for, so I figured I’d go roast some people.”

He nodded, but didn’t seem very convinced. “Well, have fun?”

“Of course. What’s more fun than kicking bastards’ asses?”

“Not much, I guess.” His suspicious expression faded. Farkas reached across the table to grab a bottle of mead and took a quick swig. “Will you be staying with the Companions long?” he asked suddenly.

“Why wouldn’t I stay?”

“Some of the other whelps are considering leaving. Torvar refuses to train, Athis and Njada constantly get at each other. The place is a bit tense right now,” he informed almost bitterly.

“Don’t worry. I think I’ll be staying for a good while.”


	9. Onward to the Horn

**_Middas, 28 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (LATE evening)_ **

Vilkas walked down the main hall of the living quarters. At the end, he took a left, knocking on Skjor’s door. After several minutes of scurrying sounds and curses, his shield-brother finally opened the door, lacking a shirt.

“Tell Aela I said hi,” Vilkas said, hoping they’d get through the fuck-crazed part of the relationship soon. Their sexcapades were nightly now, not to mention annoying.

Skjor chuckled. “What do you need, Vilkas?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about our newest recruit. But if you’re too _busy_ , I guess I could come back by later.”

“No, no, stay,” he said, coming out into the hall and closing the door behind him. “You’re talking about the mage, right?”

“The only one in Jorrvaskr,” he answered, nodding.

“Alright. What about her? Sybil’s her name?”

“Yeah, it is. How soon do you think you could get her one of the bigger jobs to have her initiated?”

Skjor’s eyebrows shot up, surprised. “Vilkas, she hasn’t even done a normal job for us yet.”

“That’s because she’s been busy fighting dragons and visiting Greybeards.”

Realization dawned on his face. “Are you saying she's the Dragonborn everyone’s been talking about?” Vilkas nodded. “Huh. I didn’t realize that tiny girl was so important.”

Vilkas laughed. “She may be small, but she can kick some serious ass. Listen, Skjor, she’s more than capable of handling anything you throw at her. I’ve seen it for myself and her power is pretty damn impressive.”

Skjor looked thoughtful for a moment, and finally nodded. “Okay, but I want to test that for myself. It might take a while, but I want to find a job that will really test her. She’ll definitely get one, though. Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

Vilkas chuckled at his eagerness to get back to Aela. “Yes. Go on. Have fun.” He began walking to the other end of the hall, towards his room. “Just quieten down,” he murmured under his breath.

****************************************************************************************

**_Turdas, 29 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Early Morning)_ **

“Hey! Dickhead! Wanna clear a Nordic tomb with me?” Sybil’s cheerful voice emanated from behind him as he ate breakfast at the mead hall’s large table. She casually rested her elbow on his shoulder. Vilkas looked up to see a brilliant and mischievous smile lighting up her brilliant and mischievous emerald eyes.

“This wouldn’t happen to be the same Nordic tomb the Graybeards are sending you to, right?” The mischief in her eyes brightened.

“I thought that you may want to tag along. You know, see more of the badass Dragonborn action. I’ll show you this really cool shout they taught me the day we went. It makes me run _incredibly_ fast!” She cocked an eyebrow at him expectantly.

“Yeah, I'll go with you. Where exactly is Jürgen’s horn?”

“The ruins of Ustengrav, northeast of Morthal. Should just be some boring draugr and skeletons, but if we're lucky, we'll run into a dragon on the way there,” she said excitedly, leaning off his shoulder as he stood.

“I don't see how that would make us lucky,” Vilkas grumbled. He looked over at his twin. “We'll be gone for a bit, Farkas. Tell me if anything interesting happens when we get back.” He strolled down to the living quarters, Sybil following behind. “You seem especially cheery this morning,” he stated.

“Yeah. I slept really well last night. Plus, I didn't wake up to a bucket of water to the face,” she said smirking. “Those potions do wonders. Thanks again.”

She waited leaning against the doorframe as he gathered a few things from his room. A health potion, a few septims, his newly-sharpened great sword. He could feel her eyes following him, and when he looked up, her lips quirked into a small smile.

“What?”

“Are you sure you want to come with me, Dickhead?” He chuckled quietly at his nickname. She quickly added, “You don't have to. It could be dangerous; I understand if you want to stay.”

“I don't want to stay. Besides, I'm not one to back down from a challenge,” he said as he walked back out into the hall, seeing her push off the frame in his peripherals.

“Is that why you put up with me?” she asked jokingly.

“Yep,” he answered, hearing her laugh softly.

****************************************************************************************

“Dickhead, can I ask you something?” Sybil asked cautiously. They had stopped to rest on the side of the road after a few hours of walking. She had climbed onto a low, thick branch in one of the trees, relaxing against the trunk.

“Shoot,” he said, methodically sharpening his sword with a whetstone.

“What did you do before you joined the Companions?”

Vilkas stopped sharpening his sword and looked up at her. “Why would you want to know?”

“Thought that I should get to know more about the person fighting beside me,” she said quietly. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Dick.”

“No, it's not that I don't want to. It just came out nowhere. There really wasn't a “before the Companions,” I guess. Jergen brought my brother and I to Jorrvaskr when we were kids, and it's been home ever since. Vignar says we were the youngest to join.”

“Who's Jergen?”

“He was like a father to Farkas and I. He went off to fight in the Great War, and just never came back.” Her crystal green eyes became saddened.

“I'm sorry to have pried, Vilkas,” she said, looking out into the distance.

“Don't worry about it. It was forever ago, and doesn't really bother me anymore,” he stated truthfully. “Any other questions?”

After a moment of silence, Sybil spoke. “Why did you join?”

He hesitated, but quickly recovered. “The coin is good.”

Of course, that wasn't true. He joined because he respected the Companions and what they stood for. He just didn't want to say it. He couldn't let people think he was starting to go soft and all.

“Well, we should probably get a move on,” she said. Vilkas was surprised when she jumped down and didn't make _any_ sound. “If the pay really is good, I want to get to work as soon as possible!”

“Okay, do you just weigh nothing?!” She gave him an odd look. “You just landed like completely silently! Agility, magic, more strength than your body should possess! Is there anything you aren't good at?”

“Well, I suck at knitting. And being nice to annoying people.”

“I agree with the latter,” he said, chuckling.

****************************************************************************************

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Vilkas asked, slightly aggravated at how directionally challenged she was. They were in the middle of the marshes, a bit north of Morthal.

“Of course I know where we are going, Dickhead!” she shouted over her shoulder. “I just gotta find a big ass mound…”

“Oh, yes. Just gotta find a mound, that’s all,” he grumbled as they trudged through a large, muddy puddle. He was caked in mud up to his shins. _And I had just cleaned my armor._

 _“There!”_ she yelled pointing about 25 yards down the bank. As they drew closer, they saw bandit corpses sprawled across the ground. Vilkas followed her up the mound, looking down into it to see yet another corpse.

“Well, this should be fun,” he stated, smirking at Sybil.

“Yep. Fighting through draugr, skeletons, and possibly bandits. Easy enough.”


	10. The Humorless Thief

**_Turdas, 29 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Around 3 pm)_ **

Sybil didn’t think that a thief would go through the trouble a dungeon would offer just to steal a horn, but, sure enough, someone had stolen the Horn of Jürgen Windcaller. She was debating on applauding the thief for their efforts or wringing their fucking neck.

Sybil stormed across the bridge to Riverwood, Vilkas in tow. She had to go back halfway across the damn country because some moron thought it was really fucking important to talk to her. She decided that she was probably gonna strangle the bastard when she met them.

“Sybil, slow down. I don’t think this person is going to run off anytime soon. They obviously went through a lot to get to you,” Vilkas said. She knew he was annoyed too, though. They had gone through so much trouble to find nothing.

“The sooner we get the horn, the sooner this can be over, Dickhead.” She stomped up the steps of the inn, and pushed through the door. Some heads swiveled toward her. The innkeeper, a blonde woman that Sybil swore she'd seen before, crossed to her with a tight smile.

“How can I help you?”

“I need to rent the attic room.”

The woman's eyes widened a bit. “Well, we don't have an attic room, but I can do you one better. Follow me,” the woman said, walking off to the back of the inn. Sybil glanced at Vilkas, and they both followed.

As they entered the room, the woman turned to them, grimacing at Vilkas. “Close the door.” He lightly kicked it shut. “Why did you have to bring him with you?” the woman asked, aiming the question at Sybil.

“Because he agreed to come. Are you the one who stole the fucking horn?” Sybil kept her voice low, but let the anger and annoyance seep in.

“Yes. My name is Delphine. We've already-”

“ _Give it to me right fucking now.”_

Delphine looked surprised, and Sybil finally recognized her. The damn woman without a sense of humor. “Calm down. Just give me a moment,” she said, turning to the wardrobe and opening it to reveal stairs leading downward. She gestured for them to go down.

The room at the bottom was small with a table in the center and several chests and weapon racks lining the walls. Delphine gingerly picked up the horn off of the table.

“First of all, lady, don't you ever tell me to calm down. Second, you better have a damn good explanation for wasting my fucking time.” Sybil's temper was flaring even more.

Vilkas watched the whole event silently, leaning a shoulder against the wall. He understood why Sybil was so mad. She had nearly gotten her head taken off in the tomb several times just to find that what she needed had been stolen. Still, the sudden surge of anger she was having was disconcerting. He made a mental note to never get on her bad side.

“I needed to meet the supposed Dragonborn.”

“Supposed?”

“I haven't seen you in action yet, but when I do, I'll know if the rumors are really true. In fact, there's a chance to prove it happening very soon, if you're interested,” Delphine said, looking at Sybil expectantly and ignoring him altogether.

“Just give me the damn horn. I don't have to prove anything to you,” she snapped, obviously losing any bit of patience she had. She began to tap her foot, seeming to use the action as a conduit to rid some annoyance.

The woman gave a defeated sigh and handed over the ornately decorated horn. “Will you at least hear me out?”

Sybil hesitated for a moment and the wall of anger seemed to crumble a bit. “What do you want?”

“These dragon attacks? They have a pattern to them. That's why I had Farengar get someone to collect the dragonstone. It’s a map of all the dragon burial grounds in Skyrim. The next dragon should appear near a town called Kynesgrove.” The woman paused.

“And?”

“And we have a chance to stop it before anyone gets hurt. All you have to do is come with me and help me defeat it. Plus, if you do, I'll know if you're truly dragonborn,” she finished.

“No,” Sybil said curtly, surprising Vilkas. He didn't think she was the type of person to abandon people in danger. That is if she didn't have a really good reason.

“Sybil, you can't just let dozens of people die,” he interjected, furrowing his eyebrows. “Maybe even more if that thing moves on to other towns.”

“No, it's okay. It's her choice,” Delphine said, looking annoyed. “If she wants that blood on her hands, she can have it. But I'm not going to just let those people die.” She grabbed some items from a chest and pushed through the pair, storming up the stairs.

Vilkas looked back to Sybil, who was avoiding his eyes by scanning the room. “What the hell are you doing?”

“We can't go, Vilkas,” she said quietly. The anger had seemed to have disappeared quickly. “It's too dangerous.”

“It's not any more dangerous than the dragon at the watch tower!”

“When I asked you to come, I didn't really think we'd be fighting a damn dragon! I can't risk dying; I have too many people relying on me, expecting me to come back.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Besides, she's not 100℅ sure that the dragon will actually appear. It will likely just end up as more completely wasted time.”

“What if it isn't a waste though?  Sybil, do you really want to go through the rest of your life knowing you could've saved so many endangered people?”

She watched him silently, mulling over it for a moment. She tapped her foot a few more times and eventually sighed deeply. “No, I don't. But you have to swear that you'll be careful if we do go.”

“You're worried about me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, we're both expected back alive at Jorrvaskr, so yeah, I kinda don't want you to die. Plus, you're the only one that I can call a dick that won't be pissed at me,” she said, giving in.

“So, we're going to Kynesgrove?”

“I guess. Just know that you're an ass.”

“I already know. We’d better hurry and catch up to her,” he said, letting her go up the stairs first. The summer day was hot, letting her leave behind her fur cloak. This meant that he was able to shamelessly admire her perfect figure, outlined by the form-fitting robes she wore. They seemed to be different from other mage robes. They were more snug, like she was used to near skin-tight armors.

 _What the hell am I thinking?_ He quickly averted his gaze and shook the thoughts away, telling himself that it wasn't right to be pining for someone he worked with.

They eventually caught up to Delphine, who had changed into weathered leather armor. Since Sybil wouldn't apologize for her stubbornness, Vilkas had to apologize for her. Delphine just waved it off, albeit with a little attitude, and told them to follow. She talked about the research she had had Farengar doing and begrudgingly thanked Sybil for retrieving the stone.

While she talked, Sybil turned toward him with a smirk. “By the way, Dickhead, this woman has absolutely no sense of humor. I asked Farengar if he wanted me to get a unicorn tablet after I had gotten the dragon one, joking of course, and she started bitching about how unicorns weren't real and all.”

“I didn't think unicorns were real,” he whispered in a questioning tone, raising an eyebrow. Delphine continued to ramble on, giving some long history about Kynesgrove that he already knew.

“Oh, they are! I gotta tell you about Lord Milk!” The volume of her voice raised slightly, catching their guides attention.

“Are you two even listening?” she asked, aggravated.

“No, not really. We honestly don't care about what you have to say,” Sybil deadpanned. The woman looked offended,huffing and turning back to cross a bridge they'd come to.

“Do you have to be so rude?” Vilkas asked after he'd managed to suppress a laugh.

“I told you that being nice to annoying people wasn't a strong suit of mine. Now shut up and let me tell you about my unicorn.” Sybil told him the story as they walked, beginning to ramble at some parts. By the time she was done, they had reached the small town.

The place was eerily quiet until a woman came running down the hill. “You have to run!” she exclaimed. “There's a huge dragon at the top of the hill!”

As she ran past, Sybil turned to him. “Do you hear that noise?” She had the same puzzled look she had had at the watch tower. Vilkas could only hear the running footsteps of the panicked woman. There were no singing birds, no wind in the trees, just complete silence.

“What s-,”

“We have to get up there,” Delphine said, cutting him off. She had already started up the hill at a jogging pace.

“Sybil, what sound?” he asked as they ran after her.

“I don't know. It's just like flapping.” She paled when she saw what was at the top of the hill. Vilkas followed her gaze to see a dragon twice the size of the first one. “Just like big, black wings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick question: What do guys think about Delphine?


	11. Alduin's Wings

**_Fredas, 23 rd day of Midyear, 4E 201 (Around 2PM)_ **

****

The clopping of hooves and the creaking of a wagon met Sybil's ears. Birds were singing cheerily in the trees, filling the morning air with their joyful tunes.

Sybil's head pounded, sharp pain radiating from one side. Her wounded leg was stiff and sore. She slowly opened her eyes, wincing at the bright sunlight streaming through the trees. Her leg was poorly wrapped with old bandages.

“Hey, you,” she heard an accented voice say. Looking in its direction, she saw a figure sitting across from her, darkened by the light behind him. “You're finally awake.” Once her eyes adjusted, she could see a handsome man in about his early thirties. His hair was blonde, and morning dew wisped around his head.

“What happened?” she asked, her usually soft voice sounding rough.

“You got caught in the ambush with us. We saw you trailing behind us, and were worried that you were a spy. Guess the fact that the Imperials captured you makes that unlikely.” The man sighed, and looked to his left. “The horse thief over there was just as unlucky.”

Sybil hardly listened as the two men began bickering. She noticed a third man in finery sitting beside her. They were all bound, yet he was the only one gagged. He gave her an odd, almost curious, look before he averted his gaze.

The guard yelled at them to shut up. The rest of the ride was mostly silent, besides the horse thief begging for mercy from the gods.

When they entered Helgen’s gates, the blonde man across from her began speaking again. He talked about his times spent in the town as a child and a look of sad nostalgia crossed his face. As he spoke, Sybil let her gaze wander around the town. Although she had wanted to visit the quaint town of Helgen, she never had time to get around to it. _Not the best reason for a visit, but I didn’t really have much of a say in being here._ She overheard conversations between the observers, most whispering, some bickering, and a very few offering looks of pity.

The sudden jolt of the cart stopping startled her. Soldiers behind them ordered them off. As she jumped down, a little less gracefully than usual because of her leg, she saw dozens of more prisoners being herded off the remaining wagons.

Sybil wasn’t scared, not really. It’s not like she would be leaving much behind if this really was the end of the line as the blonde had said. Brynjolf might miss her, maybe even Delvin, but that was about it. It wasn’t as if she actually had anyone else that cared about her or would miss her. Sybil knew this day would come eventually, she just hadn’t known how soon.

Before she could continue reflecting, the Imperials began calling everyone’s names. _Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm, Lokir of Rorikstead, Ralof of Riverwood… Wait, Ulfric Stormcloak? Son of a…_ The horse thief, Lokir, took off running in a poor attempt to escape, but the archers sent him twirling through the air. _At least he went out in fashion, I guess._

“You! Step forward,” an auburn-haired soldier commanded, continuing when she did as she was told. “Who are you?”

“Sybil.”

“That’s it? No last name?”

“Why would my last name matter now? It’s not like you guys are gonna let me live long enough to have a use for it.”

The man raised an eyebrow. She knew what question was coming next. “Where are you from? You’re rather short to be a Nord…” He said his remark about her height more to himself.

 _I may be short, buddy, but I’m five and a half feet of pure rage and sarcasm._ “Well, last time I checked both, my parents were Nords, and I’m pretty sure my mother wasn’t getting it on with the town blacksmith. You could say I’m stuck in the shallow end of the gene pool.”

The soldier gave her a weird, critical look and turned to who Sybil assumed was his superior. “What do we do with her?” he asked. “She isn’t on the list.”

“It doesn’t matter. She goes to the block, too,” his superior practically yelled.

The man offered a quick look of pity, but it was gone within a second. “You heard her. Follow the captain, prisoner.”

Seeing no way out, Sybil did as she was ordered. It had gotten hotter in the past few moments, and the sun was beating down on her face. The heat began spreading aggressively through the rest of her body, making it difficult to focus on what the Imperial general was saying.

A loud screech ricocheted through the clouds, yet the general just told his soldiers to dismiss it and continue. A priestess began speaking their rights. She was interrupted by a Stormcloak stepping forward and demanding that they just get it over with. Sybil watched as he was beheaded, although she really couldn’t react. Her mind was too muddled by the pulsating heat to do so.

The captain pointed to her. “Next! The Nord in the rags!”

Another bloodcurdling screech rang out from the sky, and the closeness of it brought Sybil to attention, her heart starting to race. The thudding seemed to only increase the now painful heat.

Again, the soldiers disregarded the sound, and the captain yelled for her to approach the block. As she did so, it felt as if her mind was in another place, like an out-of-body experience. While the captain forced her onto her knees, she saw that the look of pity had returned to the auburn-haired soldier’s face.

She felt the sticky warmth of the previous prisoner’s blood as she layed her neck against the block. Sybil distantly noticed a loud whooshing noise. She closed her eyes and prepared herself as the executioner began walking towards her. Possibilities worse than death ran through her mind. The axe could get stuck, he could miss, it may take more than one swing to go all the way through…

The third inhuman shriek was closer. Sybil’s eyes shot open when she felt the earth shake beneath her. The executioner fell, landing on his own axe. The pointed end pierced through his neck and blood spouted from the wound.

A large, black dragon was perched on top of a watchtower. Its blood red eyes burrowed into her bright green ones. Everyone else was panicking and she could vaguely hear someone telling her to follow. Yet all she could do was stare back at those blazing eyes.

Then it opened its maw, and she could see orange flickers in the back of its throat. It emitted a deafening noise. She was thrown backwards like a ragdoll, landing on the painfully hard ground.

****************************************************************************************

**_Turdas, 29 th day of Midyear, 4E 201 (About 4 PM)_ **

 

Vilkas watched as Sybil stabbed her deadric sword into to the ground, using it to support herself as she fell to one knee. Tendrils of purple and blue mist rose from the defeated dragon’s body and began whirling around her. Her crimson hair, already tangled during the battle, became even more disheveled.

All that was left of the creature were its skeletal remains when Vilkas reached her side. She was panting and he saw that her right arm was soaked with blood.

“Sybil! Here, let me help you up,” he said as he steadied her. He saw Delphine in his peripherals but chose to ignore her. “We need to get that bandaged up.”

“What? No, I’m fine,” she replied, backing away. Sybil seemed to sway slightly, so he stayed ready to catch her if she fell.

“Sybil, you are not fine. Your arm is covered with blood!”

She rolled her eyes at him, cradling the limb. “I’ll worry about it later.” Sybil turned to Delphine when she approached. “Was that enough proof for you?”

He watched the woman eye her up and down wearily, then she sighed. “I guess I should have believed you from the beginning. The fact that you were looking for the horn should’ve been enough. I guess I owe you some answers, huh, Dragonborn?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less. I defeated the dragon. Now Vilkas and I are going to return the damn horn.” She began walking off, and the woman had a panicked look.

“But don’t you want to know who’s behind these attacks? You’re the Dragonborn! It’s your duty to stop this.” Sybil stopped in her tracks but didn’t turn around. “I can tell you. Please, just listen.”

“What do you know?” Vilkas asked, realizing that Sybil was either too annoyed to deal with the woman or really just _did not_ care.

Delphine turned to him, giving him a look of appreciation. “The Thalmor are the most likely suspects. They’re the only party that benefits from these dragon attacks while the Empire and the Stormcloaks are weakened by both the war and the attacks. Even if they aren’t the ones behind this, they would surely know who is.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do about it? The Thalmor are an extremely paranoid bunch; they wouldn’t just willingly hand over the information.”

“Well, someone would need to break into the Thalmor Embassy. As you said, they’re extremely paranoid. However, the Thalmor ambassador throws a party for the extremely rich every month. One of those parties is coming up in the next two weeks.” Delphine turned to Sybil, who was looking over her shoulder to the pair with an unmistakable glint of curiosity in her eyes. “It would be our best chance of sneaking you in there. Please, at least think about it. Let me know if you’ll do it after you return the horn. I’ll need to know by next week so I can have everything prepared.”

The whelp was silent for a moment, but finally spoke. “Fine. I’ll let you know. Come on, Vilkas.” He told Delphine goodbye and followed Sybil down the hill, leaving the woman to examine the remains.

Silence followed for a few moments before Sybil turned to him, still cradling her bloody arm. “His name was Sahloknir.” Her eyes looked mournful, similar to the look he’d noticed after she had killed the watchtower dragon.

“Who?”

“The dragon, Dickhead.” She continued walking down the hill but at a slower pace.

“How do you know that?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like I looked into its eyes and just _knew._ The one at the watchtower was Mirmulnir.”

“Ask the Greybeards about it. They may know. And they might be able to tell you why you can hear a dragon before anyone else can.” She nodded. “By the way, will we be walking back up the mountain?”

She stopped and thought for a minute. “We don’t have to, I guess. We always have that spell. I just haven’t been using it because it was really draining the first time.”

“Are you up to it?” he asked, glancing at her wounded arm.

“Of course. I’m up for anything. Won’t you be worried about getting lost in the Void, though?” she inquired with a mocking glint in her green eyes.

“Let’s just get it over with, and not talk about that possibility.” She laughed lightly and told him to stand opposite her. After she said the spell, her eyes glowed momentarily, and the black, misty tendrils enveloped him as they had before. The undisturbed silence made it to where he could hear his own pulse in his ears.

The darkness seemed to last a lot longer than the first time, but just before claustrophobia could set in, the dim light of the monastery candles shined through. He had just enough time to catch Sybil’s collapsing form.

She looked different, but it was definitely her. Her vibrant hair had turned a dark grey. Her delicate features were even paler than usual. Her breathing was ragged, and she looked up at him with moss coloured eyes, a stark difference from her normal emerald colour. “Guess I wasn’t up for it after all, Vilkas. I’m sorry…” she said, feinting in his arms.

“No, no, no, no…” he whispered to himself, beginning to panic. He looked around wildly, his eyes searching for one of the monks. Arngeir had just rounded the corner, so Vilkas called out to him. The old monk directed him to take her back to the library they had stayed in a few nights before, and went off to fetch some bandages when he noticed her wounded arm. Vilkas gently picked up her limp body and carried her back, laying her on the bed closest to the fireplace.

Arngeir walked in with the bandages, and dressed the wound as Vilkas paced nervously at the end of the bed. “I apologize that we can’t do more; the Greybeards don’t practice magic. What has happened to her?”

Vilkas explained what had happened and how they had teleported up to the monastery. The old man nodded thoughtfully. “Will she be okay?”

“She should be. Just let her get some rest. She was just pushing herself too hard.” The monk got up to leave, but another question popped into his head.

“Why does she look so different?” he asked, recapturing the elder’s attention. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

“It seems that she was born with magical power instead of gaining it through years of practice. I’ve only heard of a few individuals with that talent. Their magic is so powerful that it will affect their appearance. That is why her hair and eye colours are so unusual. Due to those irregular attributes, many natural mages are shunned by society. There’s no doubt that she has suffered at some point in her life because of this, too; I could see it in her eyes and behaviour when she first came here.”

Vilkas glanced at her. _That’s why she’s so powerful…_ “What do you mean by behaviour?” he asked, looking back to the monk.

“Just watch her next time she is in any social situation. You should be able to see it in the way she acts.” Once again, that monk started for the door before calling over his shoulder, “You should probably get some rest, too. Supper will be prepared in a few hours.” With that, he disappeared down the hallway.

Vilkas wondered how the monk could stay so calm. He looked back to Sybil. Her breathing was still labored, and eyebrows were furrowed, signaling that she was in pain. He felt horrible because he knew that there was nothing he could do for her. He remembered that he had grabbed a healing potion in Jorrvaskr, so he set it down on the nightstand beside the bed. He sat in a chair next to the table.

Although Vilkas tried to get some sleep, his mind was too riddled with worry to allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome!


	12. Losses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all you lovely people enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome!

**_Sundas, 2 nd day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (Around 5 AM)_ **

 

Sybil opened her eyes, and felt panicked when all she was met with was darkness. _Oh gods, did the spell go wrong? What happened? Where’s Vilkas?!_

However, when she managed to turn her head to the side, she realized that she wasn’t lost in the Void after all; her friend was sitting in a chair next to her bed, fast asleep. Slowly, she sat up, wincing when she put too much pressure on her wounded arm.

She could see some embers in the fireplace, still burning bright red, and dim, grey light streamed in through thin windows. After looking around a bit more, she realized they were in High Hrothgar’s library. She could make out the other bed that she had pushed into the opposite corner the last time they were here, and wondered why Vilkas wasn’t sleeping there instead.

She looked over to the Companion, trying desperately to remember what had happened. _I wonder if I could…_ Sybil cautiously reached towards his knee, gently shaking it. He jumped, crystal eyes flying open, making her squeak in surprise and quickly retract her hand.

Vilkas looked around quickly, then locked eyes with Sybil. They were back to their brilliant green. _Thank the divines! She’s awake._ He realized that he had scared her. “I’m sorry, Sybil. I didn’t mean to scare you. How are you feeling?” he asked, hearing the relief in his own voice.

“Um, okay, I guess. Really sore, though.” She got a quizzical look, as if she was trying to figure something out. “What happened?”

“You collapsed. Arngeir said that you pushed yourself too hard. I told you that you shouldn’t just push through the pain.” He grabbed the health potion he’d set out the first day and handed it to her. It seemed to take her a moment to register what it was, but she finally took it. “Sleeping for three days straight is a good way to get sore. This should help that.”

After she drank it down, she was silent for a moment, staring into the dying embers of the fireplace. She fidgeted nervously with the blanket he’d put over her.

“Sybil, are you-”

“I’m sorry, Vilkas,” she said quickly, cutting him off. She watched him with her bright eyes. “I am so sorry. I was stubborn, and didn’t want to accept the fact that I might not have been able to do the spell. I-I could’ve gotten you killed, or you could’ve ended up Talos knows where. I’m so sorry for being such an _idiot.”_ Her voice broke slightly.

For a moment, he could only blink in surprise. “You… well… um…,” was all he could stutter out at first. Then, he managed to recover from the outburst. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I mean, yeah, something could have gone horribly wrong, but it didn’t. Well, other than you collapsing, of course. That was the only thing that had me worried.” He had actually found it boring without her smartass remarks and witty insults, although he’d probably never tell her that.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, confusion gracing her features. “You have your brother and all of Jorrvaskr expecting you to return. You should be pissed at me.”

“I’ll never be pissed at you, Sybil,” he said, trying to get her to stop blaming herself. Vilkas realized that he really would never be able to be angry with her. He bent forward and let his elbows rest on his knees, getting to eye level with her. “I may get aggravated, yeah. But I won’t ever get seriously angry.”

Vilkas had always made sure to control his temper. If he let it run wild, he could end up transforming and doing gods know what. Yet with Sybil, it was easy to do. No matter how much she’d try to provoke him, he could easily control it. Because he knew that if he didn’t, he’d be hurting someone that he cared for. Someone that he wanted to protect with everything he had. But he had no idea why he cared about her so much; he’d only met the woman a little over a week ago. Still, it felt like he’d known her for an entire lifetime.

Her eyes still seemed conflicted, but she conceded. Vilkas remembered what Arngeir had told him. “Sybil, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

He thought of how to phrase it for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was treading on sensitive ground or not. “When you collapsed a couple days ago, you…changed. Like, your hair turned a dark grey and your eyes weren’t as bright as usual. Has that happened before?”

She watched him for a moment, and eventually sighed. “I guess you asked Arngeir what it meant,” she stated, avoiding the question.

“How’d you know?”

“Because he and I had talked about it the first time we came here when I couldn’t get you to wake up. Yes, it’s happened before, when I’m not careful. I assume he told you what most think of people like me.”

“Sort of. He basically said that they weren’t able to fit in with society, but he didn’t really elaborate.”

“ _Fit in?_ ” she scoffed. “It’s not that we aren’t able to fit in. People don’t want us to. The ones who don’t ignore me stare, and some laugh, at my weird ass hair and eyes. At the fact that I’m fucking ghostly pale. Honestly, I’ve only met a few people who don’t think I look like a fucking alien.” He could see her temper flare, and realized that it was a _very_ sensitive subject. “My own father hated me. Said that I caused my mother’s death because I was born with magic.”

That really surprised him. “How could you have…?”

He saw her lip tremble as she took a deep breath. “Most think that people like me are omens for death, or that we bring curses wherever we go. My father’s blamed me for it for as long as I can remember. Then, when my sister would take me into town, I’d be stared at and I’d hear people whisper things, calling me a freak and a monster. Growing up, my sister was the only one who cared. But, of course, she left when I was seven, saying that she just couldn’t take dad anymore. That’s why I ended up at the College when I was ten; I couldn’t take the abuse and insanity anymore either.” Tears began streaming down her cheeks. He seriously regretted asking her about it. “Even people there would talk about me. That’s how Ancano got everyone to so easily turn against me. They didn’t like me from the start.” She stopped, apparently just realizing that she’d been telling him all this.

“I’m sorry to have asked, Sybil.”

She looked down at the blanket she’d balled up in her hands. “Don’t be. I didn’t mean to go on a rant. It just felt good to get it off my chest. I’ve never told anyone any of this before.”

“Well, if you ask me, I don’t think you’re a bad omen at all. And I like your eyes and hair, although the length is very unconventional for fighting.”

She laughed quietly, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’re one of very few, Dickhead.”

Vilkas felt something in his hand and realized that he was still holding her thin, blue ribbon. “Here, this fell out when you feinted.” He held it out to her.

“Will you put it in? My arm probably won’t cooperate if I try to tie it on my own.” He nodded and stood. He gingerly bunched up her long hair into a ponytail and tied the ribbon to the best of his abilities. When he stepped back to admire his handiwork, he had to desperately try to suppress a laugh. “It’s lopsided, isn’t it?” she asked, grinning.

“Yes, very,” he replied between chuckles. The sun was beginning to rise, and the golden rays reflected beautifully on her elegant, yet very messy, deep red hair. The light also outlined the tracks her tears had left. Gods, he never wanted to make her cry again…

“Well, it’s fine,” she said, twirling a long strand around her fingers. “At least you tried, Dickhead.” Her twirling fingers stopped and her eyes widened. “How long did you say I was asleep?”

“Almost three days. Why?”

“By the gods!” She threw off the blankets and shot to her feet. She swayed heavily, forcing Vilkas to catch her. He was careful to avoid her bandaged arm.

“Where do you think you’re going all of a sudden?” he asked, surprised by how quickly she had jumped up.

“I have to get back to Riften, Vilkas. I told my children that I’d only be away for a couple of days.”

It took him a second to process her words, but he swore he’d heard her say _my children._ Sybil’s expression told him that she hadn’t meant to let it slip. “You have kids?”

“Well, technically they aren’t mine.”

“You didn’t kidnap them, did you?” he asked cautiously, raising an eyebrow.

“What?! No, of course not, you idiot! I just took them in because I found them all alone on the side of the road.” Vilkas helped her settle back down on the bed as she explained what had happened on her way to Riften from Ivarstead. After she finished, she glanced down and had a puzzled look. “Vilkas, where are my boots?”

“Hm? Oh, they’re over here. I took them off because I knew you couldn’t be very comfortable,” he told her as he grabbed the tan boots from the end of the bed. She tried to put them on by herself, but her right arm was too stiff to lace them. So, Vilkas crouched down and began working. He could feel her eyes on him, and when he looked up, she was smiling a seemingly genuine smile.

“Just a week ago, you were being an absolute ass to me. But now you’re helping me put up my hair and tie my boots. You’re a hard one to read, Dickhead,” she said casually. He rolled his eyes and finished tying the laces. They were considerably neater than the ribbon in her hair.

“Well, I did a lot better on these than on your hair. Sorry about that by the way,” he said, chuckling again at the mess he’d made of it.

“Quit laughing at me.” She playfully slapped his arm once he stood. “Anyways, we have to go now. I want to see them as soon as possible.” Sybil hopped up again, a little steadier this time.

“Don’t you want to talk to Arngeir? You still have the horn.”

“Shit, you’re right. Come on,” she said, rushing past him. He followed closely behind, telling her that she needed to slow down and that she had only just woken up. She just told him to shut up.

They found the old monk in the center room, looking as if he’d been expecting them. Over the next few moments Sybil gave him the horn, received a third word of power, and questioned Arngeir. They found out that it was natural for a dragonborn to be able to hear a dragon approaching before anyone else and that some dragonborn had a sort of telepathic connection with them. After they had finished speaking to him and he walked off, Vilkas managed to get Sybil to slow down long enough for him to change her bandages.

“You’re moving way too fast. You need time to heal,” he scolded as he gently wrapped her arm. They were sitting in the entrance hall floor.

“This is a little more important than me healing, Vilkas.”

“Well, you thought that before and regretted it, didn’t you?” He met her frustration filled gaze for a moment when she didn’t respond. “What’d I tell you the first day we met?”

She sighed, seeming to give in. “You said that if I ignored a problem it would just make everything worse. And I agree with that, _teacher_ , but I want to get back to the kids as soon I can. I don’t want them to think that I just left them.” He finished with her arm and looked back up at her.

“First, my job may be to mentor the whelps of Jorrvaskr but I certainly don’t like being called “teacher.” Second, I can understand you not wanting them to think that. I’d just rather you not get yourself killed by being in such a rush. If that happens, then where will they be? Do you want them to be without both a biological _and_ foster mother?” That seemed to have struck a chord with her.

“You putting it that way is just cruel, Vilkas,” she said quietly. “Fine, I won’t push myself too hard this time. But we’ll still need to leave today if we want to get back to Riverwood in time.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So, you’re going to help Delphine, too?”

“I don’t really have any other choice. It’s the only thing I can do to try to stop the dragons right now.” Sybil realized that she’d completely forgotten about the job for Maven and hoped that Mallus had at least sent word to the bitch so she wouldn’t get chewed out. “We’ll have to teleport down the mountain, though. It’s probably freezing out there this early in the morning. We’ll just be going to Ivarstead; we can walk to Riften from there.”

Vilkas hesitated. “Are you _absolutely sure_ you can do it? No lying,” he said pointing a finger at her playfully.

She slapped it away, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure, Dickhead. We need to get a move on, though.”

Vilkas stood, helping her up as well. “Then work your magic.” Within the next few moments, they were standing just outside of the small town of Ivarstead. Vilkas stayed ready to catch Sybil if she just barely swayed, but she seemed to be mostly okay.

They made their way to Riften in silence. When the city gate came into view, she turned to him. “I’ll need you to stay with them for a bit. I have something I need to get done. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. He was about to ask her where she’d be going, but she quickly turned and continued walking.

Sybil led him through a back ally to her house. The garden beside it was filled to the brim with colour, a stark contrast to Riften’s dominant gray hue. The kitchen was warm and cozy, flames crackling in the fireplace. In the adjacent room sat a large bed with a blue comforter. There was a tall wardrobe, several unlit candles sitting on the two nightstands, a chest shoved into the corner, and a large bookshelf overflowing with an array of colourful books.

The woman walking up the stairs must’ve been Lydia, Sybil’s housecarl from Whiterun. The two women began talking, Sybil asking how the children were and apologizing for being gone so long and Lydia assuring her that everything had been fine. Vilkas heard a small pair of footsteps running up the stairs, and, sure enough, a small, blonde boy appeared at the top.

Vilkas watched as Sybil’s eyes lit up when she saw the young child. She scooped him up in her arms, hugging him tightly and saying how much she’d missed him. The boy giggled uncontrollably.

Then, the young boy noticed the Companion. She followed his gaze and seemed to remember that Vilkas was still there. She set the boy down. “Calum, this is Vilkas, a friend of mine. Vilkas, this is Calum.”

He crouched down and smiled at the boy. “Hello,” he said, giving a small wave. The boy blushed and got a bashful smile, clinging to Sybil’s leg.

“Calum, where’s your sister at?” she asked, smiling down at the shy child.

“She stayed downstairs,” he answered.

“I’m gonna go check on her, Vilkas. I’ll be right back,” she said, waiting for his nod. Then she turned back to Calum. “Why don’t you stay up here? Lydia can fix you something for breakfast.” She looked to the woman, getting a confirmation.

“Okay, mommy!” Sybil watched as he scurried into the kitchen while practically dragging Lydia along with him, flashed a quick smile to Vilkas, and made her way down the stairs.

She glanced into Iona’s old room as she passed, which now belonged to Lydia. She had told her housecarl that a few things should have been arriving for the adjacent room. It had sat empty for the few years she’d owned the house, but, as she walked to the door, she saw that it made a perfect children’s bedroom.

Corliss was sitting on one of the two beds, twirling the dagger she’d nearly attacked Sybil with in her hands. The girl looked up when she heard her approaching footsteps. Instead of talking, she just layed down and turned her back to the woman.

_Okay then…_

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that the man upstairs is a friend of mine, so if you decide to go up there, just know that he’s nice…enough, I guess. And Lydia is making breakfast,” she said, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall. The girl remained silent, so Sybil turned to leave.

“You should make sure to put up your armour next time,” a small voice said, catching her attention.

“What?”

Corliss rolled back over, looking annoyed. “Last time you were here, you left out your armour. Anyone could’ve come in and found out that you were a thief. I didn’t think you’d want someone knowing that, so I put it up in the wardrobe.”

 _Well, **you** weren’t supposed to know about it._ Sybil mentally scolded herself for making a rookie mistake like that. “Thank you,” she finally said after a second of surprised silence. “But how did you know it was Thieves’ Guild armour?”

The girl was quiet for a moment, a saddened look crossing her face. “When momma used to bring me here, we’d usually see one or two thieves running around. They’d wear the same armour.”

“Oh, okay,” Sybil replied quietly, but then remembered she had a job to do. “Listen, I have to go out for a bit, but like I said before, Lydia’s fixing breakfast. Just come up when you’re ready, Corliss.” She smiled warmly when the girl nodded.

As she walked back up the stairs, she could hear a childlike giggle. Once she got to the top, she saw that it was Calum. Vilkas was bouncing him on his knee; Sybil found it absolutely adorable.

The Companion looked up when he noticed her and his smile widened. “Apparently, he likes to be bounced,” he said as the boy continued to giggle wildly at the small movement.

_Well, if I was sitting on your knee, I’d be happy, too… Oh gods, what the hell am I thinking?!_

She felt her cheeks begin to heat at the invasive thought. “Um, I’ve gotta go do something. I’ll be right back. Be good, Calum,” she said quickly as she hurried out of the door, not giving them a chance to respond.

The cold, wet morning Riften air hung over the city in a haze. When she turned to go to the Bee and Barb, she bumped into Brynjolf, nearly falling over once again.

“We really need to stop meeting like this, lass,” he said jokingly. “One of these days, I won’t be able to catch you.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Bryn. What are you doing here?”

“You did ask me to keep tabs on the kids while you were gone, did you not?”

“Oh! Don’t worry about that today. Sorry that I was gone longer than I said I’d be. Unexpected dragon fight and all.”

“Uh huh. That just happens every day, right?” he asked rhetorically. “Maven’s been fuming by the way, so I’d hurry to the Barb if I were you. You’ll also have to deal with Mercer afterwards.”

“Great. Just what I needed: _two_ pissed people. Will I live?”

“Well, you survived Maven last time, so there might be hope. I think Mercer is the one we’ll really have to worry about.”

She nodded, said goodbye, and continued on to the Barb. She met the Black-Briar bitch in the same nook on the second floor.

“Did you know that I’ve been sitting here and waiting every day since you left,” she said coldly as Sybil sat down.

“How _wonderful_ it must be to have that much free time,” Sybil retorted with the same tone. She gave Maven the letter from Honningbrew, got bitched at a bit, and then was sent off to Mercer.

Sybil purposefully dragged out the trip to the Cistern, and groaned when she made it to the hidden entrance. Her eyes searched the Cistern for the rude Guild Master and found him in his usual place, hunched over his desk and muttering angrily.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, Mercer’s head shooting up. He looked extremely annoyed as always.

“Finally. What’s been taking you so long lately? Someone might think that you have more important things to look after than the Guild jobs. But _surely_ that’s not true for someone like _you,_ ” he said grouchily, barely hiding some random disgust.

“If you’ve got something to say to me, Mercer, just spit it out,” she snapped.

“You just seem to have something you’ve been running off to lately. What could that be?” He sneered at her. “I’m pretty sure we’re the only group in Skyrim that would accept your _kind.”_ He spat out the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Sybil’s pulse thundered in her ears. She hadn’t told anyone in the Guild about her secret; it had never come up. They’d looked past her weird appearance, valuing her stealth skills more than her backstory. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You’ve never had a problem with me before Mercer. What’s changed, huh?”

“I found out what you’ve been hiding from us all. I want you gone in the next ten minutes, and you better never come back,” he ordered, his voice a low hiss. “You’re the reason we’ve had so much trouble. Hell, Delvin’s little curse theory may actually be true. Now _get out.”_

Sybil felt tears welling up in her eyes, but desperately fought them down. She was being banished from yet another home. The Guild had kept her safe for the past five years; she didn’t want to leave. But instead of breaking down, she straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, _“Gladly.”_

She walked out through the Flaggon, avoiding eye contact, ignoring friendly “hellos,” and still refusing to let a single tear fall. Sybil rushed to the town market, searching for Brynjolf. He was in his stall, speaking to a young woman.

“Bryn,” she whispered, leaning against the stone wall behind that small stall. He glanced at her, and quickly asked the young woman to come back later.

“What’s wrong, lass?” He looked concerned, obviously seeing that something was up. That was something special about him; he always knew.

“Mercer just kicked me out of the Guild,” she said, her voice cracking. _Divines, Sybil, you’re pathetic._

“What? Why the hell would he do that?” His face contorted with anger.

Sybil realized that coming to him was a mistake. _Well, Mercer’s probably going to tell him, so I might as well be the first._ “Bryn, just promise you won’t get angry with me.” He promised without hesitation. “I was born with magic. And he found out.”

That was all she had to say for him to understand. He glanced around nervously before leaning in closer. “Don’t you think we should go somewhere a little more private to talk about this? Like your house?”

“No. My friend, he can’t know that I am, or _was_ , involved with the Guild.” Brynjolf nodded in understanding. “Just tell me what I should do, please.”

“I’d just keep doing what you’re doing, lass. Keep caring for those children and helping with this dragon problem. They’re more important than the Guild, anyway.” She took in a shaky breath as she nodded. A huge part of her life was being ripped out. All because of what she was. “Listen, I can talk to Mercer, try to get him to see reason. And I’ll keep checking in on those children when you’re gone, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she said quietly before wrapping him in a tight hug, ignoring a sharp part of the wall digging into her side. “Thank you, Brynjolf.”

“No problem, lass.”

 

****************************************************************************************

**_Sundas, 2 nd day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (11 AM)_ **

 

“I’m coming with you, Sybil. No matter what you say,” Vilkas said sternly. Sybil turned and glared over her shoulder at him. They were almost to Riverwood, and he’d decided that he didn’t want her going into the Embassy completely alone.

“It’s too dangerous, dammit,” she snapped. He noticed that she was really touchy when she’d returned, but she had refused to tell him what was wrong. Her aggravation only seemed to increase when they left.

“Well, that’s why you don’t need to be going alone.” She threw another glare at him. “Plus, it’ll be easier and faster if we go in together.”

She remained silent after that, but anger rolled off her in waves. Vilkas was beginning to get very worried. He kind of wished she would argue with him; at least that way he’d know that she was somewhat okay.

Vilkas followed her through the small town and into the tavern. Delphine noticed them and gestured for them to follow her. They followed her down into the small, hidden room, and Sybil didn’t waste a moment.

“Tell him that he can’t come to the Embassy with me,” she said quickly.

The older woman looked confused. “Um, what?”

“He said that he wants to come with me so I won’t be alone. Will you please tell him that it’s a stupid idea?”

She glanced between the pair for a moment, apparently ignoring his aggravated sigh, and a calculating look crossed her face. “Actually, it could work…”

“Oh, you can’t be serious!” Sybil snapped, throwing her hands in the air in an exasperated motion. “It is way too dangerous! He has people to go back to, so I can’t just let him walk into a death trap!”

“What about those kids, Sybil?” he asked sharply, watching her go rigid. “They’re expecting you back. And the rest of the Companions are too. Plus, there’s the fact that I have a higher rank than you, so if I say I’m going, then I’m going.”

“Well, I’m the fucking _Dragonborn,_ so I’m pretty sure that in the grander scheme of things, _I_ outrank _you_.”

“How about you guys go as a couple? You sure do bicker like one,” Delphine threw in. He and Sybil both froze, and he saw her cheeks turn as red as her hair before she quickly looked away.

“No way in hell,” she muttered.

“Yes, I believe that will work. With two people on the inside, you’ll be likely to find out more.” Delphine looked between them again. “Of course, it could take a little extra preparation. A second invitation, another disguise, and we’ll have to get your aliases worked out so they can’t search for you. Any ideas on what they should be?”

He looked to Sybil, seeing a hint of defeat in her expression. Then, she swiveled in his direction, grabbing the collar of his armour and yanking him closer with little effort, surprising him again with her strength.

“If you’re gonna come, you better listen to my _every word._ ” Vilkas nodded quickly. Her eyes held a flaring anger. “You won’t be stupid.” Another sharp nod. “And you won’t be reckless.” A third nod. “And _you. Will. Not. Die._ There will be no risking your life, and if you even think about doing it for me, so help me, I’ll kill you myself. Or, if they kill you first, I’ll bring you back, because I do know a little necromancy, just to pummel you back to death. Got it, Vilkas?”

He felt his eyes widen. He couldn’t tell if she was serious or not, but damn, was she scary either way. He nodded for a fourth time, gulping. “Yes ma’am.”

She still looked skeptical. “Do you swear?”

“On my honour,” he said without hesitation. Finally, she released his armour, giving him a small shove backwards.

“Now that we’ve got that sorted out, we can talk about the aliases. We’ll use my last name. Bordeaux is a pretty rare surname; as far as I know, I’m the only one still alive in my family. And I don’t ever really tell it to anyone, so it should be safe enough. And I’ll go by Raina.” Vilkas noticed that she seemed to become saddened when she said “Raina.”

Delphine nodded, having been watching the little altercation. “Okay. But, just for curiosity’s sake, why Raina?”

“Does it really matter to you?”

“No, I suppose not. Alright, what about you?” the woman asked, gesturing to Vilkas.

“I honestly don’t care. Surprise me,” he answered, shrugging.

“You aren’t exactly making this easier on me. Whatever,” she said, sighing. “I should be able to come up with something different and rare enough on my own.” She walked around the table, shuffling through some papers. “You two need to start heading to Solitude. The party is to be held in three days’ time. You need to meet with Malborn at the Winking Skeever. He’s a Wood Elf, so he has plenty of reason to despise the High Elves. By the time you get there, I’ll have everything ready.”

Sybil raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Yes. Get going now. I’ll be at the Solitude stables when you are finished with Malborn.” With that, she turned as if they weren’t even there.

Vilkas gave Sybil a questioning look, and she shrugged, already heading up the stairs. When they got outside, she turned to him. “Idiot.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to help you.”

She sighed as they began heading to Whiterun.

“Hey, Sybil,” he said, catching her attention. “Why did you choose the name Raina? It seems rather specific.”

She was quiet for a moment and he thought she hadn’t heard him. Then, she looked at him with the same sad expression he’d seen earlier.

“It was my sister’s name,” was all she said. She was completely silent the rest of the walk to Whiterun, seemingly lost in deep thought.


	13. Infiltration (And Just a Tad Bit of Lust)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is SUPER long, so, ladies and gentlemen, buckle your seat-belts and get comfortable because this chapter is chock full of twists and turns. By the way, there might be some typos, mistakes, etc. because it is so long, but they shouldn't be too severe. Just a warning, there is a tiny bit of smut in this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

 

**_Morndas, 3rd day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (About 4 AM)_ **

 

Vilkas watched the aurora-cloaked stars, leaning against the brick wall in front of Jorrvaskr and waiting for the sun to rise.

He understood a little of what Arngeir meant now. The monk had said to watch Sybil closely and he'd see some of the effects of her secret.

Last night was when he'd noticed it. They had gotten back to Jorrvaskr and were having supper, everyone happily sharing stories of the jobs they had done and telling dozens of jokes. But Sybil had been quiet and awkward, completely different from how she usually was. And he had caught both Vignar and Athis whispering and glancing at her nervously. He knew that she had seen it too, but noted that she didn't seem surprised by it. She had said before that people had been staring at her and whispering rumors ever since she was a child; he couldn't imagine how horrible it was for her.

He realized that he'd seen it the first time they'd met the Greybeard’s, too, when she had suddenly clammed up. To be pushed to being socially awkward and absent must be unbearable for her. He just couldn't figure out if the awkwardness was due to the fear of being judged or if it was something else.

The sound of a door opening behind him snapped him out of his little reverie. He turned to see just who he was expecting, the woman that had been occupying his mind for the past couple of hours.

Sybil seemed surprised, her eyes widening with alarming. The brazier burning nearby set her hair aflame with golden streaks. “How’d you…,” she said, trailing off in a tone of confusion.

“-know that you were going to try to sneak off without me? I had a hunch,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “Plus, there's also the fact that I heard you telling Aela that you didn't want me going and that you were going to leave really early, but I would've figured it out either way. I could see those gears turning in your head, after all.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. “You're dead set on going, huh?” she asked, a frown forming on her rosy lips.

“Always.”

She sighed deeply, setting her hands on her hips. “How long have you been out here?”

Vilkas thought a moment. “About two hours. From the way you were talking, I expected you to leave a lot earlier than this. Did you oversleep or something?”

“Yes, actually. Apparently, those potions keep me knocked out for a while. Next time, I'll just leave right after you go to bed,” she murmured, already heading down the steps.  
He followed her through Whiterun, the pair still bickering about whether he should go. Finally, when they got to the stables, she officially acknowledged that he _was_ going with her.

Surprisingly, the carriage driver agreed to take them to Solitude, despite how early it was. They hopped into the cart. The driver said that one bench was broken, so they ended up sitting side-by-side, annoyance radiating off Sybil. The driver droned on about the night, but the pair just ignored him.

By the time they passed through Rorikstead, the sun began rising. However, Sybil’s eyelids were drooping shut, and she started nodding off. He guessed she hadn’t slept as much as he had thought. Eventually, she fell asleep, ending up leaning on his shoulder. He smiled at her, tiny compared to him, and stayed as still as possible to not disturb her.

The fields rolled past, thankfully peaceful and quiet. They crossed through Dragon’s Bridge. About a mile from Solitude, they hit an especially rough patch of road, making Sybil jolt awake. She looked around blearily and realized that she’d been leaning on him.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said quickly, scooting away. Chilly air filled the spot she moved from.

“Don’t worry about it. You weren’t bothering me.”

She looked at him quizzically for a moment, then scanned her surroundings once more. “Where are we?”

“Almost to the capital. You’ve been out for the past couple of hours,” he told her as the tower near the stables came into view. She nodded and remained silent, a bothered look in her eyes. Finally, he gave in and asked. “Sybil, are you okay? You’ve been very quiet ever since we got back from Riften.”

She sighed. “I’ve already told you, I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

He watched her, knowing she was lying but deciding to let it go. “Well, I’ll listen if you want to talk,” he said, getting an appreciative look in return.

The carriage driver let them off at the tower, saying that they’d have to walk the rest of the way up. The pair continued up the hill, and Vilkas noticed the posted guards giving Sybil suspicious looks as they walked through the front gate.

They weren’t expecting the first thing to see would be an execution. Two, actually. There were five people standing on the platform, two of which appearing to be prisoners.

"Roggvir. You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city after he murdered High King Torygg. By opening that gate for Ulfric you betrayed the people of Solitude,” said the captain as they watched the event unfold. Several protests rang out from the crowd.

One of the prisoners, an older man with a shaggy beard, stepped forward, defending his actions. More protest and insults were yelled. Vilkas looked over to Sybil, seeing a terrified look in her eyes. Roggvir was ushered forward and knelt in front of the block. He bent down, and in one clean strike, the executioner beheaded him. She flinched.

The next prisoner was pulled forward, brought to his knees and held there when he resisted. He was a young man, looking barely over sixteen. Despite his young age, his hair was a brilliant white and his eyes were an unnatural gold.

Vilkas could tell that Sybil saw something he couldn’t. The terror in her eyes grew by the second.

“You were found on the scene of two citizens’ murders. You have been convicted of using ancient magic to kill them and of being born with magic. With the new law to eradicate all natural-born mages, you have been sentenced to death.” The boy made eye contact with Sybil, giving her a pleading expression.

Vilkas stared in shock. _New law…?_ She looked scared, trembling as if she was about to fall apart. They pushed the kid down onto the already bloody block, and when the axe was raised, he heard her whisper, “I can’t let this happen.”

In the next instant, everyone was panicking. He had seen a bright red light bloom in her hands, but only for a split second. As all the civilians and guards ran off in a frenzy, she pulled him over to the Winking Skeever. She was looking up at the top of the city wall, and when he followed her gaze, he saw the young boy standing there, looking down at them before quickly disappearing.

“What the hell did you do?” he asked as she dragged him into the tavern. It was almost empty. The execution had probably drawn most of the city.

 _“I_ didn't do that!” she said defensively.

“But I saw the light in your hands. You apparently did something.”

“I may have started the spell, but I didn't finish it. I think that kid did.”

“Like he stole the spell? Is that even possible?” He looked at her, puzzled.

“I guess it could be. He might have a spell that can siphon magic off others. The captain did say that he used ancient magic.” She crossed her arms and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Yeah. He also said that the kid had been found on the scene of two murders. What if you just saved a murderer?”

“He’s not a murderer, Vilkas.” Her tone was sharp. He noticed that she only used his name when she was either aggravated or deathly serious about something.

“How do you know?”

“Because I just do! Now come on. We have to find this Malborn guy before things get busy in here.” Sybil started to walk away before he grabbed her wrist, making sure to be gentle. She turned back to him, a look of confusion on her face.

“What about the law the captain talked about?” he asked, keeping his voice low. He didn't want her being dragged off and executed. He wouldn't let it happen.

A hint of fear returned to her eyes, and she looked down to her feet when he released her wrist. “I don't know. I should be safe as long as I keep a low profile. I may get some stares, but I was lucky enough not to get overly conspicuous features, unlike that white-haired kid.” She looked back up at him, a small smile forming on her lips. “Gods, Dickhead. I can feel the worry practically rolling off you. Stop it.”

“But what if-”

“I'll be fine. I promise,” she said, cutting him off. He sighed and nodded, though he could see fear through her façade of confidence. “Now, shut up and get a move on.”

They searched around for a moment before finding the Wood Elf sitting in the back of the room. He gave them a suspicious look, and Sybil smiled kindly.

“Our mutual friend sent us,” she said as they sat down.

“You guys are really the best she could do? Divines, I hope she knows what she's getting into,” he complained. Vilkas could see Sybil’s smiled falter a bit. “So, here's the deal. I'll be sneaking your weapons into the Embassy. The Thalmor-”

“That won't be necessary,” she said shortly before the little guy could finish. “I can get our weapons in on my own.” Malborn looked confused, and Vilkas was about to tell him about her spell. However, he bit back his words, remembering that she had to keep a low profile.

“Fine. It's your own funeral. Our friend also wanted me to tell you that she wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning. She said for you two to get rooms here. She also wanted me to give you these.” Malborn reached under the table and pulled out two thin boxes wrapped in brown paper, like a mail parcel.

“What are they?” Vilkas asked.

The Wood Elf shrugged. “She just said that you'd need them to get into the party. I have to go. Find me when you get to the Embassy,” he whispered as he got up and quickly left.

Sybil lazily played with the strings on the parcels. As Vilkas looked around, he noticed that some people were beginning to trickle in, apparently having recovered from the spell.

“Hey, look,” she said, grabbing his attention. She was holding an envelope that had _Raina Bordeaux_ written on it in cursive. He looked at the other box, seeing another letter tied down to it. “They’re probably our invitations.”

His read _Gunnolf Bordeaux._ “Really? Fighting wolf?” The accuracy of the Norse name was completely unnerving.

“Well,” she paused to glance at his name again, “Gunnolf, we need to go get our rooms.” He followed her up to the counter and waited while she talked to the innkeeper. She had refused to take any gold to pay for his room.

He watched her expression change from kindness to surprise to quiet aggravation. She headed back over after paying him, a single silver key in hand.

“He said that there was only one room open for tonight, but that another should become available tomorrow morning. I've already payed him for the second room for tomorrow night. So, that means your changing rooms as soon as it becomes available.” Her cheeks seemed to have turned a light pink.

“Does that also mean I'm sleeping on the floor?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Vilkas was willing to do it; the last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.

She gave him a conflicted look, and her cheeks turned just a shade darker. “No, Dickhead. You don't need to do that. He said that it was a double bed. Everything should be fine as long as you stay on your side and keep your hands to yourself. Got it?”

“Stay away from you. Got it,” he said, nodding and giving a mock salute. She led him to where the innkeeper had said the room was, unlocking the door when they found the correct room.

The room was small and simple with a double bed, a dresser, a desk, and a wash basin with a mirror above it. A thin, rectangular window let golden light into the room; unlit candles sat on the sturdy desk.

Sybil sat on the bed, mentioning that they should be prepared for the next few days. “I'm still exhausted, so I'm gonna take a nap. You can go do whatever you want. Just please don't bother me for a while.”

Vilkas nodded, setting the two boxes down on the dresser. He told her to sleep well and walked out to get breakfast. He hadn't eaten this morning, so he was starving.

As he as walled back into the tavern area, there was a lot of fearful talking about how the executions went wrong. He found an empty table near a window and called for a tankard of mead.

Vilkas thought about Sybil for the next couple of hours, something he’d been doing a lot lately. He worried about her; she’d seemed hurt when she had walked back into her house, looking as if she had been crying. He just wished she would tell him what was wrong, although he knew he shouldn't. He’d only known her for about a week and a half; it wasn’t really his place to worry about what was going on in her personal life. Still, he didn't want whatever was wrong to distract her in the next few days. That could easily be fatal.

After a while, his thoughts turned to something...darker. He thought of her luscious curves. Thought of how arousing it would be to pull her long hair and hear her moan out in pleasure. He imagined her crying out his name…

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa…_ He couldn't be thinking like that, not about Sybil. Not about her. But the beast inside of him roiled at those thoughts. It wanted her, the desire he'd noticed earlier beginning to grow stronger.

He couldn't think of her like that though. She was just a whelp, someone he was supposed to be teaching the ways of fighting. The only reason he was here was to make sure she survived long enough for him to do that.

Vilkas was just supposed to be a mentor and a friend. Nothing more.

 

****************************************************************************************

Sybil stared at the inn room's ceiling for what felt like hours. It was hot. So hot that she had had to shed the top layer of her magic robes, leaving her in the thin, white, silky bottom robe. She had kicked the thick covers off, unable to take the heat.

She was so tired but couldn't sleep at all. She had lied to Vilkas. The potion wasn't what had made her oversleep; it was the nightmares. Apparently, she hadn't taken enough of the potion to keep her knocked out, so she had woken up in a cold sweat several times throughout the previous night.

Her nightmares usually consisted of the murders she had committed; sometimes they were filled with screams. Other times they were just silent scenes of the killings. The odd thing was that the dreams were never from her point of view. They were always from the view of her victim's. It was so lucid that she could actually feel the fear they’d experienced in their last moments.

After shaking off the memories of the nightmares, her mind shifted to her companion. Sybil didn't want him worrying about her. But she couldn't tell him about the Thieves’ Guild. Although she hadn't been in Jorrvaskr for very long, she was pretty sure they didn't want a thief in their ranks. Or an assassin, now that she thought of it.

Then, her thoughts shifted once again. She had caught Vilkas looking at her for the past few days. Most of the time, he looked worried. But other times, there was almost a lustful expression in his eyes. She could've been imagining it, but she usually had a knack for reading people.

To be honest, she had taken a liking to him too, though she'd never tell _him_ that. She loved his crystal blue eyes and his deep, accented voice. She admired how caring he was, even if he was a stubborn ass sometimes. Sybil wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers, wanted to have his hands all over her body. She wanted him.

As her lustful imaginations began to run wild, she could feel herself becoming aroused. Quickly, she sat up, seeing that she had, in fact, kept the door locked when she’d changed. Laying back down, she snaked her hand down her stomach and into her panties, having untied her robe.

She slipped two fingers inside herself, her other hand coming down to circle her sensitive bud. She continued her ministrations, holding back moans as she chased her release.

The heat began to build up. Then, her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks, and she just barely remembered to keep her groan of pleasure quiet.

She laid there, panting. Her fingers twitched slightly every few seconds. Sybil tied her robe again once she recovered from her powerful release. She stood, wobbling a little, and crossed to unlock the door, the silk material swishing around her calves.

One thing she hadn't expected was for the door to open right when she had begun walking back to the bed. She quickly turned, one hand instinctively rising to cover her chest, even though she'd tied the robe back.

“Oh, sorry,” Vilkas said, standing in the doorway. Thank the divines she had finished before he'd come to the room. “It's been a couple of hours since you… Are you alright?”

“U-um, what do you mean?” she asked nervously, feeling her cheeks heating. He walked the rest of the way into the room, closing the door lightly behind him.

“You just seem a little flustered, is all.”

“Flustered? Me? I'm not flustered. It's just a little hot in here,” she said quickly, fanning herself dramatically. “W-what do you want, Dickhead?”

“I just wanted to see if you were up. It's been about two and half hours since you said you were going to sleep,” he stated, watching her suspiciously.

“Well, I actually haven't been to sleep. Too damn hot,” she said as she hurried over to the chair at the desk, grabbing the light blue enchanted robe she'd laid over it. Sybil quickly put it on and strapped everything into place, adjusting the satchel and empty water skin on her hip. “So, I'm pretty hungry. Let's go grab something.”

She awkwardly slipped past him and out into the hallway, praying that her cheeks were back to their normal pale shade. After a second, she heard Vilkas’ footsteps behind her, quick at first but slowing when he caught up to her.

Vilkas mentioned that he'd already eaten and said that he'd be paying for her meal, which she begrudgingly accepted. As she ate, staring out the window and into the streets of Solitude, she smiled, still coming down from the orgasmic high that Mr. Dickhead had nearly interrupted.

“Are you _sure_ you're okay?” he asked, grabbing her attention. He looked a bit worried.

“Yes, Vilkas. I'm fine. Why?”

“Because you're smiling. You were really grouchy this morning and yesterday. But now you're smiling and as happy as can be. Who are you and what did you do with Sybil?” he inquired jokingly. However, the worried glint stayed in his azure eyes.

“Oh, just give it time. I'm sure you'll do something stupid enough to piss me off.” She heard him chuckle softly, but then saw his expression harden slightly as he glanced around cautiously.

“Well, that's not the only thing that's got me worried. The people have been talking, Sybil. Most are saying that the boy that was nearly executed caused the panic, but others are saying that it was someone in the crowd. What happens if someone figures out that _you_ actually started the spell?”

Sybil stared at him for a moment before taking a swig of her mead. “If that happens, then I'll carted off to the dungeons and later executed. Simple as that,” she said casually. In reality, though, she was worried too. Terrified, actually. And she knew he could see it. “Look, we should be fine as long as neither of us doing any more stupid things than we have to. Got it?”

Vilkas sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine, fine. Don't do anything stupid. Should be easy enough.”

 

****************************************************************************************

**_(Around 11 PM)_ **

Vilkas laid in the bed, staring out the thin window. He could hear Sybil's gentle breathing behind him. The room was mostly dark, but the stars shined brightly, soft light streaming in. He heard her make a small noise, something akin to a whimper, but then she went silent, so he assumed she was fine.

They had spent the entire day in the inn, not doing much in particular. Sybil had mulled over a book while he had read one of his own. It had gotten very hot in the room, the summer sun beating down on the building. Once evening had come and they had both eaten supper, it finally cooled down.

When they had gotten back to the room, Sybil seemed seriously exhausted, mentioning that the boy stealing her spell might have had a draining effect on her. She had flopped down on the bed, having quickly changed into the silky robe he'd seen her in earlier, and was out in seconds.

He had gone to his respective side of the bed, making sure to keep his distance from her. He didn't want to accidentally get too close and risk pissing her off, even if she was sound asleep.

She made another noise, this time more of a moan of fear. He turned his head to check on her and saw her chest heaving as her breathing became panicked. He remembered her mentioning that she had nightmares pretty regularly.

Sybil rolled over and scooted closer, pressing herself to his back. His pulse picked up in his ears. He felt his eyes widen as he watched her, her breathing returning to normal, all the sudden panic having vanished. He tried to move away a bit but she clung to him like a small child.

_Oh, I really hope she doesn't try to blame this on me in the morning. Hopefully, she'll move back before then._

Vilkas didn't really mind at all; he actually kind of liked how close she was. He just didn't want her having the wrong idea and getting pissed at him, something he was really trying to avoid because he'd be the first to admit that she was scary when she was angry. And he had a feeling he hadn't seen the full extent of it yet.

He could feel her soft breathing against his undershirt, a small hand clutching at the fabric possessively. Eventually, he let the steady rhythm of her breathing lull him off into a deep sleep.

 

****************************************************************************************

**_Tirdas, 4th day of Sun's Height, 4E 201 (About 9 AM)_ **

Sybil slowly opened her eyes, the morning light waking her. Her body was curled up against something hard and strong. It took her a moment to realize that it was Vilkas, his back moving with every steady breath he took.

_Oh….shit…._

Her first instinct probably should've been to back away immediately. But she found herself snuggling even closer, enticed by how warm he was. She stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the silence and the sense of safety he gave off.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” a female voice exclaimed. Sybil nearly jumped out of her skin; in fact, she did jump out of the bed, agile as ever, and went into a defensive stance with tendrils of fire already wrapping around her hands. She didn't know if it was the shout that had woken him or her sudden movement, but Vilkas was sitting bolt upright in the bed, eyes wide and alert.

It took Sybil a second to register the fact that the voice had been Delphine’s; even longer for her to realize that the woman was standing at the end of the bed, actually smiling for once.

“W-what…? When…? How the hell did you get in here?!” Sybil nearly shouted, confusion and sleep muddling her mind.

“Well, I picked the lock. I was actually a bit worried about what I was going to find, but it just warms my heart seeing you two cuddling up to each other! You really would make an adorable couple…” Delphine murmured her last sentence more to herself.

“I just want to clarify, _she_ cuddled up to me,” Vilkas said defensively. Sybil rolled her eyes.

“I did not!” She crossed her arms, aggravated.

“I believe the Companion, honey. I even saw you snuggle a little closer just a few minutes ago,” Delphine deadpanned, backing Dickhead up.

She could feel herself going red, her cheeks becoming heated, as Vilkas stared at her, raising an eyebrow teasingly. “Really now?”

“Shut your face, Asshat.” Sybil turned back to the woman still standing at the end of the bed. “What do you want?”

“We have to make a plan before you two go into the Embassy. Malborn managed to get me maps of the entire complex…” The woman walked over to the desk, pulling a folded paper out of her back pocket. She talked as she unfolded it, revealing the map she mentioned. Sybil hardly listened as she put her mage robes back on; she saw Vilkas standing, looking over Delphine's shoulder at the parchment.

He had apparently changed out of his armour after she'd fallen asleep. He stood in a simple linen shirt with pants of the same material. He looked rather handsome out of his armour, his muscled arms rippling when he crossed them. His raven hair was attractively messy. He looked over at her with his beautiful blue eyes, smirking when he caught her staring. She felt herself beginning to blush again when he did so.

Delphine continued talking, either not noticing or not caring about Sybil’s lack of attention. The gist of the plan was to sneak in as husband and wife, speaking to Malborn about getting deeper into the Embassy, and finish working their way through the remainder of the complex to search for evidence of the Thalmor’s involvement with the dragons. Sybil preferred to go through the place stealthily, but she had a feeling that Dickhead wasn't exactly cut out for sneaking.

“These will be your disguises. They’re heavily enchanted to resist most magic, so you should be relatively safe,” Delphine said, gesturing to the two boxes they had yet to look in. “Listen, I have to go now. There are still more things to be arranged. Study this map and make sure you know the plan by heart. The party is tomorrow, so be prepared and stay out of trouble. By the way, when I asked the innkeeper where your room was, he told me to let you know that the other one is ready. So, I guess I'll have to be waking you guys up individually tomorrow.”

“How about we just wake up on our own _without_ you barging right in?” Sybil asked, not even attempting to keep the annoyance out of her tone. She was pretty aggravated that she wasn't able to stay in bed. She had wanted to stay with him for just a little while longer.

The woman sighed. “Fine. But if you two aren't up by eight, I will be coming in to get you.” She started for the door, but turned back around, seeming to have remembered something. “By the way, you guys have fun while you can. Tomorrow's gonna be rough. But don't have too much fun,” she said, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively. She quickly scrambled into the hall when Sybil threatened her with a fireball.

Sybil heard Vilkas chuckled and turned to him after a moment. “I did not cuddle up to you, got it?”

Another small laugh. “Whatever you say, Syb.”

She grinned at her friend. “Well, it was about time you came up with a nickname for me.”

 

****************************************************************************************

**_Middas, 5th day of Sun's Height, 4E 201 (About 8 AM)_ **

“Syb? You awake?” Vilkas asked, knocking on the door to her room. He knocked again after a few moments, and the door finally swung open. She stood there in her white robe, hair messy and eyes sleepy, looking up at him through her lashes. _Divines, she is so adorable._

“What do you want, Dickhead?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep. She gave a small yawn, leaning against the door. Even just seeing her this way was making him feel tired, too.

“Delphine left this under my door,” he informed, extending the letter to her. She opened it with bleary eyes. “She wants us to start getting ready for the party before she gets back. She said that we'll need to meet her down at the stables with our invitations.”

Sybil sighed, nodding and folding the paper back. “Alright. Thanks for waking me. I'll see you in a bit.” With that, she backed into her room, closing the behind her.

He crossed back to his own room, which was similar to hers, and opened the box sitting on the desk. Inside was very expensive looking finery.

He cleaned up quickly, finding time for a speedy shave. The fine clothes had many different layers, but figuring it out was no more difficult than adjusting the straps on his armour, which was laid out on the bed, freshly polished earlier that morning.

When he was finally finished getting ready, he looked in the mirror above the basin. He was surprised by how different he looked. He didn't look like the warrior he actually was at all.

Vilkas poked his head out into the hall, scanning the area for Sybil. She still hadn't come out, so he decided to wait in the hall until she did.

The tavern was quiet, almost tranquil. If he listened hard, Vilkas could hear the bustling of people in the streets, but not many people were having a drink or a meal inside.

He waited patiently for a half an hour. He was debating on knocking on the door to see if she was still awake when it opened. Sybil was looking down at the gold-trimmed invitation that was almost identical to his.

She looked absolutely stunning. Her dress was long, princess-style, and dark blue and grey with black swirls in the silky material in the center area of it. There was a hood on it, but she had kept it down, letting her long, ruby hair flow over her shoulders. Long sleeves draped down to her sides. The dress hugged her waist, fanning out towards the bottom. The corset-like strings lifted her breasts, revealing a good bit of cleavage.

Vilkas knew he was slack jawed but couldn't do a damn thing about it. Sybil looked up, her green eyes shining. Her rose-coloured lips curved into a small smile as she blushed a little.

“Feel free to admire me, Dickhead,” she said teasingly, her small smile turning to a smirk. She seemed to shamelessly eye him up and down too.

“Gladly,” he whispered, swallowing past the lump in his throat. After a second, he was able to push past his nervousness and extend an arm to her. “Shall we, Mrs. Bordeaux?”

She looped her arm through his and looked up at him. “Of course, Mr. Bordeaux.”

He escorted her to the stables, the pair walking quickly to make it on time. They chatted about simple things, like how they both slept last night or how perfect the weather was.

Sybil got glances from the guards again, but this time they were lingering, attracted. When they got to the stables, every head turned towards her. Some people whistled in appreciation, others whispered, and Vilkas caught snippets of the whispers about how “beautiful” and “elegant” she looked. He couldn’t agree more; he was relieved that they weren’t even considering what everyone had been whispering about her.

Sybil hardly seemed to notice, spotting Delphine and unhooking her arm from his to rush over to the carriage the woman was standing next to. Even she had a stunned look on her face.

Delphine made them both go over the plan again before ushering them into the carriage. “Remember to be as stealthy as possible. Don't give yourselves away.”

“We won't, Delphine,” Vilkas assured the woman. She smiled as they pulled off, the carriage being pulled up the hill.

He turned to Sybil, who was sitting to the left of him. She was staring at the city behind them, looking completely serene. But he saw a worried glint for only a second.

“Is something wrong?” he asked quietly. She looked at him and smiled.

“Not at all. Just going over the plan in my head again is all.”

Eventually, it got colder. Despite the summer season, the northern coasts and mountainous areas always remained frigid in Skyrim. Big, heavy clouds hung over the region, and sleet began to fall. Sybil put her hood up and leaned on Vilkas’ shoulder casually, making him go rigid. She wrapped her arms around his left one.

“Do you think we’re going to be able to do this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“Of course, I do, Syb. We just need to be cautious, and we should be fine. It'll be okay,” he said, trying to assuage her sudden doubts.

“Do you promise you'll be careful, Vilkas?” She looked up at him, her eyes bright and gleaming as she eagerly leaned closer.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, nervous from her sudden closeness. “I promise.” She still looked skeptical, but went back to leaning against his shoulder, sitting in quiet worry. The rest of the ride was silent, and Sybil perked up, surveying the area.

“Well, we might as well have fun while we can, Dickhead,” she said, putting on a brave smile. He helped Sybil out of the cart, making sure to be gentle when she mentioned that her arm was still sore.

They walked up to the entrance, a High Elf woman smiling at them when they approached.

“Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy. May I see your invitations?” she asked in a creepily sultry tone.

The both handed over their invitations, and the woman gestured for them to head inside. Once they did, every head turned towards Sybil, just like at the stables. Except this time, there were more people to stare. Enough to get her to notice.

“They’re all staring at us,” she whispered, leaning towards him.

Vilkas smiled down at her. “No,” he said. “They’re all staring at you.” He saw her blush brightly before she shyly looked away. Another High Elf woman walked towards them, wearing formal clothing and an I’m-better-than-you expression.

“Welcome. I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are...?” she said in a too polite manner.

“I’m Raina. And this is my husband Gunnolf. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Sybil said instantly, all of her nervousness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. _Damn, she is one good actress…_

“Ah, yes. I had seen your names on the guest list. Someone mentioned that you were nobles from Cheydinhal. What could possibly bring you to this…to Skyrim?”

Vilkas nearly rolled his eyes at her obvious disdain. And when was it said that they were supposed to be nobles from Cyrodiil? No one ever told him that.

Sybil seemed to play along easily. He briefly wondered how she could describe all kinds of things from the city in Cyrodiil, but then remembered that she had apparently visited the country a few years ago.

He noticed the little dude, Malborn, dart out from behind a counter and cross to the trio, a stricken look on his face. He talked to his superior, obviously anxious, asking her about a problem with the drinks. Elenwen mainly rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. After a moment, she waved him away as if she was swatting at a pest.

She seemed like she was about to resume the conversation with Sybil when someone called her name. All three of them looked to the source, and he quickly realized that it was _Maven-Fucking-Black-briar_ herself _._ Vilkas was really beginning to get a picture of just how high-class this party was. He noticed Sybil’s eyes widen before the ambassador quickly excused herself. His partner quickly ushered him over to the counter Malborn had disappeared behind, looking back nervously.

“What's wrong?” he asked lowly.

“Let's just say that I'm not on good grounds with Maven,” she, glancing over her shoulder again.

“Wait, you know Maven Black-briar personally?” He watched her, bewildered.

“Yep. And there is a mutual hatred between us. Come on. We gotta talk to Malborn.” The Wood Elf, who had apparently been getting something from underneath the counter, popped up suddenly.

“Would you like a drink, miss? It's our best wine,” he said in a too cheerful manner.

“Yes, actually,” Sybil said, looking around anxiously.

“Drinking in the job? Really?” Vilkas asked, raising an eyebrow. Malborn poured some dark red wine into a chalice.

She nodded. “It helps calm the raving nerves,” she deadpanned, taking a sip from the cup.

“Well, until today, I didn't realize you had nerves when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“You learn something new every day, Vi-Gunnolf.” He snickered at her near slip up. “Don't you laugh at me.”

“I need you to cause a distraction,” Malborn injected, recapturing their attention. “I can't get you into the back otherwise.”

Sybil scenes the room and something caught her eye. “I have an idea. I'll be right back.” She sauntered over to a man who looked like he'd already had too much to drink. She seemed to put a purposeful sway into her hips, and the man watched her almost lustfully. Vilkas felt a strong pang of jealousy when she began talking to him, smiling and laughing at some stupid joke he apparently made.

_But why? You aren't actually married to her, Vilkas. What the hell has gotten into you lately?_

Since he was too busy mentally scolding himself, it took a second for him to realize that she had walked back over to him, without her drink, and that the man she'd been talking to had stood up, calling attention to himself. He began making quite a suggestive and loud toast to Elenwen.

“Good work. Now come this way,” Malborn whispered, leading them to the kitchen. The Argonian working in there admonished him for bringing guests into the area, but he quickly told her a bullshit reason about how they had gotten sick from too much to drink. He led them over to a door on the other side of the kitchen, saying that he couldn't take them any further and wishing them luck.

On the other side of the door, there was a short hall with two rooms heading off of it. In the room closest to them, two voices conversed about the party. Sybil gestured for him to stay quiet and follow. They both crouched down, which she seemed to do with practiced ease despite the dress, and they heard for the second room, Vilkas catching a glance of the two guards inside the first room.

“Are you gonna summon the weapons yet?” he whispered once they'd reached what looked like a storage room.

“I'm working on it, Dickhead. Just gimme a sec,” she said with an aggravated tone. After a second, his greatsword materialized in her hands, and she quickly handed it over. He thought she was going just going to stick with burning people alive as usual, but instead, she summoned a bow. However, it didn't actually look solid; it looked more like it was made of purple and black mist with electricity coming off of it.

“Oh, so, you know archery now too,” he stated.

“I had a friend in Riften who taught me.”

She snuck back into the hall before saying anything else, him following closely behind. The two guards had stopped talking for the moment, but he could still hear the shuffling of their feet. One pair was getting closer to the doorway, and when Elven armour gleamed, a well-placed arrow quickly dispatched him.

“I'll take the other one out, too,” she said. “We don't want to blow our cover yet. Wait here.”

“Got it.” He didn't like the idea of not being able to help her, but he also knew that a greatsword was too loud and clunky. There was some scuffling inside, the sound of an arrow being unleashed, and then a low gurgle. He looked into the room cautiously, seeing her searching the room and the guard on the floor with an arrow in his throat.

She motioned for him to follow her up the stairs. They both searched the empty rooms branching off the halls. They started back for the lower level.

“Oh, shit,” he heard Sybil yell, the disgusting crunch of axe and skull meeting. When he looked over, he saw her standing with a conjured battle axe embedded in a Thalmor wizard’s skull. She let the axe go and it quickly disappeared. “Sorry,” she whispered. “He surprised me.”

Vilkas glanced from her to the body and back to her. “That’s what you do when you’re surprised?”

She shrugged and continued back downstairs. When they took the door into the courtyard, a fireball was launched at them instantly. Sybil quickly stood in front of him, pushing him out of the way before he could do anything.

“Sybil!” he shouted, panic pulsing through his veins. But after a few seconds, it was replaced by confusion. There she was, perfectly fine. The fire wrapped around her like ribbons. She looked breathtaking.

She flashed a grin at him. Fire flew from her palms as she cooked the wizard who had attacked first. He jumped to his feet, and they quickly made their way to the other side of the courtyard, fighting Thalmor guards and wizards along the path.

The pair finally made it inside, panting against the door. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” he whispered once he’d caught his breath.

“I tend to scare people like that. Fire can’t kill me, if you didn’t notice. But smoke can, so don’t expect me to go running into any burning buildings.”

A pair of voices made them freeze. Sybil conjured her bow again, and when the two targets emerged from the room they were in, she quickly shot them down.

They searched the floor of the building, and Sybil came out of the office with a key in hand after a moment. The pair went into the basement area, finding a torture room.

They saw a guard talking to one of the two prisoners, although they couldn't see the second clearly. When the man wouldn't answer, the guard lost her patience and quickly killed him. She moved over to a cell identical to the other, obstructing their view even more.

Sybil quickly put an arrow in the guards back, bringing her down instantly. They hurried down the second set of stairs, and he walked over to the cell while Sybil walked over to a desk with a nearby chest.

He was surprised to find the young boy from the execution two days ago. He looked terrified, chained to the wall with something like a metal collar around his neck, so Vilkas crouched down and held his hands up in a nonthreatening manner.

“It's alright now. We’re not going to hurt you,” he assured, hearing Sybil's footsteps approaching.

“Dickhead, who are you talking to?” she asked, apparently not having realized that there was a second prisoner. Her eyes widened slightly. After a moment, she murmured, “Well, you just have a knack for trouble, huh?”

“Sybil, be nice.”

“I am! Didn't mean it harshly, kid, I swear.” She looked at his chains and gestured to them. “Is it okay if I…?”

The boy seemed to understand and nodded eagerly, holding out his wrists. Vilkas stood out of her way as she grabbed the key off the guard’s body and unlocked the chains.

“So, what's your name?” Vilkas asked as he stood up. The kid was only a few inches shorter than himself.

“Kenton,” he said nervously. “What about you? I'm guessing it's not really Dickhead. Or did your parents just really not like you?”

Vilkas felt his eye twitch in annoyance. He heard Sybil giggling uncontrollably, seeming very childlike in that moment.

“No, it's Vilkas,” he told the boy, making sure to keep the aggravation out of his tone, ignoring her ongoing giggles. “She’s just been calling me that since we met. Plus, a few other things.”

“Does anyone else call you that?”

“Not as far as I know. I'm the only one,” Sybil said cheerfully, having come down from her giggle high. She clung to his side with an arm through his, smiling. He honestly couldn't tell if she was being serious or just continuing the “Married Couple” charade. There was no reason to in front of the kid, so why was she so close…

“And I already know you.” He gestured to her, and got a confused look in return. “I was at the College, remember? I was only there for a few years and never really spoke up though, so you probably never even noticed me.” Kenton ran a hand through his hair nervously. “But everyone knew you. Sibylline Aurora Bordeaux, biggest badass the College ever had.” _What a beautiful name,_ Vilkas thought absently. It was the first time he'd ever heard her full name.

“Now, I wouldn't go as far as to say that,” Sybil mumbled, looking down sheepishly and clinging closer.

“You could go even farther! You were the coolest mage I'd ever heard of and I always wanted to at least be able to talk to you, but you always had your nose in a book or you were learning new spells. I don't think I even had the courage to approach someone like you. All the other mages said you could do amazing things, things that the Arch Mage couldn't even do!” The boy got a dreamy look, like he was her number one fan.

She continued to avoid Kenton’s eyes and clung closer still. Vilkas was actually beginning to worry about her.

“But then the Ancano started saying these horrible things about you, how you were a murderer and power-hungry.” He felt Sybil tense beside him. “I didn't believe a word of it though. When he made you leave, most of the mages were really upset with him, but we couldn't do anything about it.”

Vilkas felt his heart stutter a bit when he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. “I think you should probably stop t-”

“You really didn't believe him?” Sybil asked quietly, her voice cracking a bit. She'd looked up; her eyes were bright with tears. “Others were actually mad that he made me leave?”

Kenton looked between the two of them, seemingly debating whether he should shut up as Vilkas had tried to ask or answer her questions. The Companion nodded for him to answer when he got a questioning gaze.

“Of course, we didn't believe him. And yes, we were all pretty pissed, but he had too much power for us to do anything about your banishment. Why wouldn't we be? You were one of the best mages.”

“I just always thought that everyone has hated me. I’ve thought for the past five years that he had had everyone convinced I was nothing more than a greedy monster.” The vulnerability and confusion in her voice made Vilkas’ heart clench.

“There were a few that were, but most didn't believe him. I promise,” Kenton assured warmly. Sybil took her arm from his and walking up to the boy, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Kenton looked surprised, having no idea what to do.

After a second, she stepped back and smiled. “Thank you, Kenton. You have no idea how badly I’ve needed to hear that.” He tugged at the collar nervously, looking down. The movement brought her attention to the metal item. “What's that? You didn't have it at the execution.”

“Um, well, it's supposed to suppress magic in people like us. I ran into the Thalmor the same day you freed me; they're scared of us, so they've created these collars to stop us.”

Sybil's eyes glinted with fear. “Why the hell would they do that? It would be a lot simpler for them to just kill us,” she mumbled.

“They know that our power is so much stronger than others. They want to harness it and use us. I've heard some of them talking about using Casters to conquer the Stormcloaks.”

“Casters?” Vilkas said questioningly, raising an eyebrow. He kind of missed the presence of Sybil's warmth.

“That's what people are calling natural born mages now. Some call us other things but the official title is “Caster”. It's used in the laws ordering our executions and everything.”

“So, what's going on? A purge or a conscription?” Sybil looked annoyed on the outside but he could see fear in her eyes. “I mean, I'd rather die than become a mindless puppet for the Thalmor.”

“Right now, it just depends on who finds you first. I don't think the Imperials know that the Thalmor are doing this.”

“Is there any way to get that off? It looks rather tight.” She got just a bit closer to inspect the collar.

“Yeah. They used a scroll to get it off one of the men they killed last night. Apparently, he was just a test subject. It should be on the desk over there.”

Sybil conjured a scroll, unrolling it. “This it?” she asked, presenting it to him. “I grabbed a few minutes age.”

Kenton nodded, looking surprised and hopeful at the same time. “Please hurry and get this thing off.”

She nodded and held out the scroll. “ _La libération,”_ she chanted, her eyes glowing as usual. The piece of metal clicked and fell to the ground. Kenton rubbed the red rings on his neck in relief.

Just then, shouting came from the floor above. Vilkas exchanged a panicked look with Sybil before they all ran, scrambling for an escape.

****************************************************************************************

“Sir, a woman left this note for you two,” the innkeeper said, handing Vilkas a piece of parchment. Once he, Sybil, and Kenton were seated at a table away from listening ears, he read it aloud.

 _“If you’re still alive, meet me in Riverwood tomorrow._ Sounds like she was confident of us returning,” he remarked sarcastically.

“Of course, she’d leave without us. You’d think she’d want to get her hands on that info as soon as possible.” Sybil called to the bar-maid, asking for some reserve.

“Are you guys sure I can stay with you? I’ll leave if it’s too much trouble,” Kenton said quietly, glancing around nervously. Sybil had given him her fur cloak, which apparently had a hood that Vilkas had never noticed before.  It covered his ragged clothes and crystal-white hair. _His golden eyes might still be a problem._

“You’re staying,” Sybil said firmly. “It’s too dangerous to be out at night.”

“She’s right. It’s a lot harder to see anything coming at night,” Vilkas interjected.

“You can stay in Dickhead’s room. I’m sure he won’t mind, right?” She smirked at him, a mischievous look on her face, almost as if she wanted him to say something. The waitress set three bottles of Black-briar reserve on the table.

“I’m completely fine with it. Or we could share a room again, Syb.” He chuckled when she choked a little on her drink, apparently caught off guard by his comment. “Maybe you’ll even be snuggly, too.”

She gave him a go-to-hell glare. “Fuck you. We already said that that didn’t happen.”

****************************************************************************************

Vilkas watched Sybil down another bottle of reserve, her fifth one in just the last hour. He was only on his third for the night, and he was already feeling a little drunk. Usually, three drinks were nothing for him, but when it came to Black-briar reserve, it was a whole other story.

Kenton had gone to bed hours earlier, exhausted from his imprisonment by the Thalmor.

She called for another and he chuckled. “Syb, you should probably slow down,” he told her, noticing a little slur in his own voice.

“Don't tell me what to do, Dickhead,” she said, swaying a little. “It's my life. I can get as drunk as I want. And we deserve to celebrate for the _huge_ success we had today.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “You're really going to regret it in the morning.”

“Then, I'll sleep ‘til noon. Problem solved.” A waitress came and sat another bottle down on the table.

After another half hour, her drunk enthusiasm seemed to have sapped out of her. “I'm goin’ to bed, Dickhead,” she said, trying to stand up. If he hadn't stood and caught her, she would be fallen flat on her ass.

“Whoa, now. I got ya.” He helped her to her room, constantly having to tell her, “No, Sybil, you cannot dance like a ballerina. You can hardly even stand on your own,” and, “I already said that I will _not_ be pirouetting with you.”

Vilkas finally managed to get her to her room. When he unlocked and opened the door for her, she bit her lip, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Suddenly, using the fact that he was a bit unbalanced himself, she pulled him into the room and pushed him back against the now closed door.

“Syb-”

She cut him off by pressing her soft, warm lips against his, almost tenderly. His brain practically short-circuited, but he had enough thought to realize she wanted him to deepen the kiss. He greedily obliged.

He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, slipping it in when she moaned. She tasted like alcohol, a bittersweet mix that made him feel lightheaded. Her little mewls were music to his ears.

Her hands were all over him, and his were all over her. She playfully bit his lip, giggling before kissing him again. He could feel himself becoming hard. When she tugged at his shirt, he snapped back to reality.

Vilkas pulled back abruptly, panting and gently pushing her off him. “Syb,” he breathed, looking her in the eyes, “we can't.”

The pout on her face nearly made him break. He wanted to kiss it away. “Why not?” she whined, breathing heavily too.

“Just because. Trust me, you don't want to be with me. And, either way, you're drunk and don't realize what you're doing.” Her pout deepened and her shoulders slumped. “Just go to bed. Here, I'll help you.” He ushered her over to the bed, making sure she didn't fall. Once she was seated, he gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, told her goodnight, and pretty much bolted from her room and into his.

Vilkas leaned against the wall, evening out his breathing while he tried to get a grasp on what had just happened. He changed his clothes, trying to think of anything but her. He lumbered over to his bed and collapsed onto it, completely forgetting that Kenton was on the other side. _Shit._ He listened, hearing the boy still snoring softly, and relaxed.

As he laid there in the darkness, he thought of how much he already missed her honey-flavored lips. But he couldn’t be with her, no matter how much he wanted. It was too dangerous, for both of them.


	14. The Next Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's been a while. I'm also sorry because it's a short chapter, but I will be able to write tons more when finals are over! Enjoy!

**_Turdas, 6 th day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (Noon)_ **

 

“Hey there, short stuff,” Vilkas said, looking down at an exhausted Sybil. She glared at him evilly.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she mumbled, her green eyes clouded with sleep. Her words had no bite to them; she was still half asleep and didn’t have the strength to muster any real animosity. She wobbled a bit, wincing from the movement. Her head pounded.

“Hangover?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. A smirk ghosted across his face.

“Hangover,” she whined, walking forward and burrowing her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist without even thinking about it. “Everything hurts, Dickhead.”

“Oh, I know,” he soothed, talking to her as if she were a small child and holding her. He lightly patted her head, making sure to be gentle. “I told you that you were going to regret drinking that much. You almost regretted even more.” He mumbled the last sentence to himself, but her overly sensitive ears caught it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, looking up at him with curious eyes.

“Umm…” After a second of awkward silence with her still in his arms, he seemed to make a decision. “You may or may not have kissed me last night. Or tried to go even farther.”

She felt her eyes widen and her cheeks heat. She backed out of his arms quickly, bumping into the door and not meeting his eyes. “I-I…” she stuttered out.

“Sybil, it’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it. I made sure nothing else happened.” Sybil felt him watching her, her cheeks heating even more. She backed a bit farther into the doorway under his eyes.

Sybil felt extremely anxious, wanting to get away, to run. Honestly, it shouldn’t have been such a problem. She’d had a one night stand with Brynjolf, and it’d had no effect on their friendship. It had just been a moment of drunken stupidity.

But this was Vilkas, the guy she actually had a thing for. _Thank the divines , he didn’t let it go too far…_

“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, looking up. “Oh gods, I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing, I swear. Again, I am so sorry, Vilkas. It will _never_ happen again.” Her mind was racing. She could just barely remember what happened, but a part of her brain wanted it to happen again, wanted it to go even further than it had.

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Nothing to worry about; it happens. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t like it.” She saw him freeze and heard him quietly curse himself, apparently not having meant to say that last part. She felt a small smile tug at her lips. _So, does he regret it or not? Because I don’t really think I do._ “W-wait, uh, I…”

She giggled a little while he stumbled over his words just as she had. “Just shut up, Dickhead,” she said as she backed into her room, starting to close the door. She heard him say something about getting ready before she leaned against the door, giving a long sigh. She smiled at the vague memory of his lips from the night before, warm and surprisingly soft.

****************************************************************************************

“I didn’t think you guys were actually a couple,” a voice came from behind him, making him jump. When he spun around, he found Kenton, cloak already donned.

“We aren’t,” he said quickly.

“Well, you totally should be. If I wasn’t eight years younger than her, I’d definitely tap that,” the boy said, wriggling his eyebrows. Vilkas glared at him, aggravated by how suggestive he was when he spoke of her. “I mean, I don’t even know why you stopped her last night.”

_So, he heard that part…_

Vilkas scoffed. “Maybe it’s because I respect her. And either way, I’m not gonna sleep with someone who’s too drunk to know what she’s doing,” he hissed. _Even if she hadn’t been drunk, it wouldn’t have been safe. The beast is starting to get too strong to hold back…_

He had always had to be careful with his emotions, for Kodlak had said that losing control would trigger the beast’s release. Getting too angry, too excited, even too happy was dangerous for everyone around him. In recent months, it had been getting more and more difficult to control himself.

“Are you insecure about ‘Little Vilkas’?” were the words that snapped him from his reverie.

“By the divines, _no_ ,” he replied, laughing at the question.

“Should I read too much into that tone?” Kenton raised an eyebrow.

“Can we just-? Okay. You know what? You can read into it as much as you fucking want.” Vilkas flexed his fist, calming himself. He hadn’t realized how much of an annoyance the kid was going to be. Or maybe it wasn’t actually Kenton; not totally at least.

They both jumped as Sybil’s door flew open. She avoided Vilkas’ eyes, blushing. But he swore that he could see a small smile on her lips as she walked into the main tavern area.

They left the city, the gate guards only casting passing glances at the trio. Sybil had to pay the carriage driver a little extra for him to take them straight to Riverwood. The long ride was painfully silent until Whiterun came into view, when Sybil finally met his eyes, that ghost of a smile still there.

“You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to, Vilkas. I can have the driver stop here,” she offered, looking at him expectantly.

“Well, do you _want_ me to go?” he asked slowly.

She shook her head quickly. “No, no. Of course not! I just…”

“I think she is worried about things being uncomfortable. With what nearly happened last night,” Kenton interjected.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“I’m fine if you are, Sybil.” He saw her lips twitch up into a smile again, making him smile himself.

“Well, it’s settled then. You’re staying. No backing out now, Dickhead.”


	15. Nearly Sleeping with the Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it has been so long. Please accept my apology along with this considerably sized chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it!

**_Turdas, 6 th day of Sun’s Height, 4E _ ** **_201 (About 9 P.M.-ish)_ **

 

“Hello? Nirn to Starshine, do you read me?” Vilkas’ hand waving in front of her face snapped Sybil out of her reverie. She furrowed her eyebrows, annoyed that he broke her train of thought.

“What do you want?” she snapped, watching Vilkas’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He lifted his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Sorry. I was just checking on you. You were completely spaced out. And, not to mention, about to walk into a tree,” he said. He waved to the large trunk that she was only a few feet away from.

“No, no. I’m sorry. That came out wrong; I was just-Wait. What did you call me?”

“Um, Starshine?” he said cautiously.

She looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“Well, because at night, when the moonlight hits your hair, it makes it look silver. And you kind of shine. Like a star. Do you not want me to call you that?” He sounded a little nervous as he spoke, like he was worried that he’d offended her or something.

“Oh, it’s completely fine with me. If I get to call you Dickhead, you can call me whatever you like. It just caught me off guard because that was actually one of the many nicknames my sister gave me,” she told him.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I won’t call you that-” he started before she cut him off.

“Vilkas, what did I just say?”

“That you were fine with it?”

“Exactly. Now shut up about it.”

“Yes ma’am. So, what were you so lost in thought over?” Vilkas asked as the continued to walk up the road to Riften. The city loomed at the top of the hill.

“Nothing much. Just wondering if the children are settling in well, and if they're getting along with Lydia.” she said, only telling a partial truth. She was also worrying over what would happen when she went back to the Flagon.

They had spent the entire evening with Delphine, siphoning through all the documents Sybil had retrieved. And there were a shit ton. Some were even encoded. Kenton had pitched in where he could but, like the rest of them, had had no luck in cracking the codes. Eventually, they found documents mentioning an old man named Esbern, who Delphine had apparently known before he went into hiding. She’d pointed Sybil and Vilkas in the direction of the Ratway Warrens. Kenton had opted to stay behind with the woman to continue decoding the documents.

Vilkas had been apprehensive about travelling at night, but it felt almost second nature to Sybil. She was a thief and an assassin, although she'd never let _some_ people find out about. The darkness was like an old friend, enveloping and protecting her. It also reminded her that she was gonna be dead meat if she didn’t check in with the Brotherhood soon. Astrid was gonna kill her, bring her back, and kill her again.

“Sure,” Vilkas drawled, sounding completely disbelieving. She had forgotten that he could see right through her. Sybil just rolled her eyes and ignored him as they strolled through the city gate. They had made it past the Temple of Mara when they were approached by two city guards.

“Ma’am, you need to come with us,” one of them ordered, his voice chillingly emotionless. Sybil felt her pulse pick up. Something wasn't right. She hadn't done anything to have the guards after her. At least, she hadn't been caught while doing anything. _What if something’s wrong?_

“Why?” she asked, keeping her voice level and putting up a façade of confidence. She could see Vilkas watching apprehensively out of her peripherals.

The second guard piped up, a female with the same lack of emotion. “You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her peoples. There is evidence of you being both a thief and a Caster. We will be escorting you to the palace dungeons. Come along now.”

“If I refuse?” Sybil could feel panic blooming in her chest, but she fought to keep her cool. If they found out that she really was a Caster, she'd be executed. There'd be no talking about it. _But how could they know? Brynjolf and Mercer are the only ones in Riften who know…_

After a second, it clicked. Brynjolf wouldn't have had her locked up, but Mercer definitely wouldn't hesitate to stoop that low. It would get her out of his way if she ever wanted to get back into the Thieves’ Guild.

“If you resist, we'll kill you right here. You're probably going to die either way,” the man deadpanned. Sybil saw Vilkas’ hand go to the hilt of his sword, but she gestured for him to stop.

“Well, I find that a bit excessive, so fine. I'll go quietly. Vilkas,” she said, turning to him, “Do you mind letting Lydia know about this?”

He seemed conflicted for a moment but eventually gave a conceding nod.

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath before turning back to the pair of guards. “Alright, you two. Take me away,” she remarked with a smirk, holding up her hands mockingly. She hadn't exactly expected the male guard, who she now realized towered over her, to step forward and clamp a collar similar to the one Kenton had around her neck. Almost instantaneously, Sybil could feel her magic being practically ripped from her. It was like when Kenton stole the spell from her in Solitude, just a hell of a lot more aggressive. It felt as if the wind had been violently knocked from her lungs.

She doubled over from the pain and surprise, and heard Vilkas rush forward to help her. “Sybil!”

“Stay back, sir. This reaction is just more evidence that she is a Caster.”

“It's fine, Vilkas. I'm fine,” Sybil panted, catching her breath. She straightened a bit, clutching at her sides. She began following the guards down the dark walkway, casting a quick glance back to Vilkas before they turned into the palace courtyard. He stood there, his figure looming in the fog.

************************************************************************************************

Vilkas knocked on the door, anxiously tapping his foot as he waited. A moment went by, so he knocked again. Finally, he heard shuffling from inside and the door inched open. Lydia’s face appeared and she seemed to be holding a weapon. 

“It's alright. It's just me. I need to talk to you about Sybil,” he said hurriedly. She opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter.

“What’s happened?” she asked, setting the knife she’d been holding down. Embers gently glowed in the hearth, doing little to warm the room. Everything was dark, save a single candle burning on the table.

“Sybil’s been arrested. They’ve found out-” Vilkas paused, unsure if Lydia knew that her Thane was a Caster. “They think she’s a thief,” he corrected.

Lydia sighed. “Shit.” After a moment of quiet, she sighed again. “Well, we can’t do anything about it tonight. We’ll handle it in the morning; we might as well sleep on it and come up with a plan to help her.” He begrudgingly agreed and was told to sleep in the adjacent room. As Lydia descended the stairs, she muttered something about making sure the children were still asleep.

As he laid there, Vilkas wondered if Sybil really was a thief. It would make sense. The way she moved, her agility, her stealth, they were attributes a thief would need. As he thought about it, he realized that she had probably headed off to the Thieves’ Guild the last time they’d been in Riften. And if she was involved with the Guild, that would explain how she knew Maven.

_Shit._

If it was true, it could cause a lot of trouble. Thieves weren’t usually accepted into the Companions’ ranks, save a few choice ones throughout history.

************************************************************************************************

**_Morndas, 9 th day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201_ **

What really sucked about being in a dungeon, Sybil realized, was the stench. It was obvious that there was little to no upkeep in Riften’s cells. Plus, the usual dank, sewage smell the city was known for definitely was _not_ helping. Sybil was constantly having to fight the feeling of needing to retch.

Three days, according to the guards. She had been sitting in the Riften jail for three days, but it had actually felt like an eternity. The cold walls and never-ending complaints from the other prisoners had kept her from getting an ounce of sleep, skewing her perception of the passing of time. Apparently, she had let herself get spoiled with sleep over the previous weeks; she should’ve known not to let herself get out of the routine of four hours every few days. _Won’t matter much longer anyway…_

The last time she’d been here, years ago, her cell had had a small hole in the wall with one of the shadow marks above it. She had managed to wriggle her way through it and make her way out of the sewers to the not-so-fresh air of the docks. This time, she hadn’t been so lucky.

They had already found her guilty of being a Caster. They hadn’t even given her a trial, though she hadn’t expected one in the first place. Mercer would’ve known that she would’ve tried to lie her way out of this; she’d had to her entire life. _Is this what the country has come to? Killing people in fear of their differences?_ _Then again, everyone’s been doing that for centuries…_

Several pairs of heavy footfalls drew her attention, making her sit up on her questionably-stained cot. She fidgeted with the metal collar around her neck, trying to ignore the constant suffocating feeling it brought.

Four guards stopped in front of her cell. One of them unlocked it and crossed the threshold, approaching her quickly. Sybil stood, trying not to show her fear by appearing calm. However, the pulse thundering in her ears betrayed her stoic nature.

“It’s time,” the guard said blandly. She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you guys certainly work fast. Don’t I get to see my family first? Say any final goodbyes?” she asked, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Over the past three days, she had been constantly worrying about what would happen to the kids when she was gone. Surely, Lydia or Brynjolf would make sure they were cared for. Maybe even Vilkas would, but she couldn’t expect him to. They weren’t his responsibility.

Sybil actually hoped that he had left Riften by now. She didn’t want him at her execution.

“Do you really think you deserve that right?” the guard asked coldly.

“You apparently don’t, so what does my opinion matter?” she retorted. The guard scoffed behind his helmet and told her to turn around. He bound her hands tightly behind her, and Sybil was sorely disappointed to find that it would be impossible to wriggle her way out of the binds.

“Move,” he ordered, pushing her out of the cell. She shot a glare back at him before she was jostled along. The four guards surrounded her, each of them easily towering over her.

“So,” she said casually as she was led out of the dungeons, “how am I gonna die? Beheaded? Hanged? Drowned in the canal?” She had added the last part jokingly.

However, when one of them turned to her and said, “You’re too smart for your own good,” her blood ran cold. _So, I’m going to be thrown into the canal to sleep with the fish…what a dreadful way to go…_

She continued to fight to keep her cool, but the control was quickly slipping. Her breath quickened as the stepped out of the dungeons, the first sunlight she’d seen in days blinding her. Almost every citizen of Riften stood on Mistveil Keep’s stairs. The jarl herself stood on a rock platform jutting out from the stairs.

A wood platform came into view, pushed up against the walkway railing. Everything was silent, besides the echoing footfalls as she and the guards descended the steps. She scanned the crowd, receiving glares, but never finding Vilkas’ face. She felt a twinge of disappointment, despite her earlier feelings.

She had fretted over the kids being present, but had been flooded with relief when she remembered that children were barred from viewing executions.

As they neared the platform, her pulse increased even more and she got an overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry. _I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I_ don’t _want to die…_

A hulking figure stood upon it, three large stones strung together beside him. The four guards dispersed as she walked up the wooden stairs. The man stood quietly in a dark cloak, a hood obscuring his face. He directed her to the edge closest to the canal and knelt to tie the stones to her legs.

One of the guards began a long speech on why she was being executed and happily explained just how much of a monster she was by being a fucking Caster.

“Lass, you need to listen to me,” her executioner whispered, and she nearly sobbed with relief. _Thank the divines for Brynjolf and his disguises._ “I’ve made sure to keep these ropes pretty loose. Before I push you into the canal, I’m going to cut the binds on your hands. Be ready to swim. Haul ass to the mountains across from Lake Geir. A woman lives in a shack there; she’s an ally of the Guild. We haven’t heard from her in a while, but she will help you. We sent your friend Vilkas ahead; he’s waiting for you there.” She felt her eyes widen at his name. Her mind started racing even faster.

“Did you tell him?” she hissed.

“I had no choice, lass.” Brynjolf stood back up, quickly cut the ropes on her hands, which she kept behind her back, and looked to the guard that had just finished speaking.

“Do it,” the guard ordered.

Bryn moved in front of her. “I’ll meet you two there later,” he said before shoving her off the platform, giving her barely enough time to hold her breath. The rocks increased her momentum, making her hit the water painfully hard.

Sybil worked quickly, shedding the ropes weighing her down and moving underneath the wooden walkway, gasping for air when she emerged. She swallowed another huge breath and began swimming towards the canal gate, swimming through the small gap at the bottom. She swam to the edge of Lake Honrich, crawling onto land and sputtering as she caught her breath. She stood after a moment and snapped her fingers, expecting fire to dry he off.

Then she realized.

She was still wearing the collar. She looked around, assessing the situation. She was in nothing but ragged, linen clothes, her robes having been confiscated. She had no weapons or magic. Sooner or later, the guards would learn that she hadn’t drowned in the canal. And she still had quite a trek to go.

She was defenseless and would soon be hunted. _I’ve had worse odds…I survived up in Winterhold for nearly a decade. If the snow bears couldn’t kill me, this won’t._

Sybil began walking to the mountains Bryn had told her about, praying that she didn’t run into any bandits or creatures alike.

************************************************************************************************

**_(About an hour later)_ **

 

Sybil pulled herself along the path leading to the shack, which had come into view. After another moment of walking, she saw Vilkas sitting on the front porch, having been previously obscured by the bushes.

“Vilkas!” she shouted, tackling him with a hug.

“Hey there, Starshine. Are you okay?” he asked as she pulled back, worry in his crystalline eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. “I was a little worried there for a bit though. Especially when you didn’t come to see me.” She looked down at the ragged sandals the guards had given her. She had actually been very disheartened when he hadn’t at least come when they’d announced that she was to be executed.

“I tried, I swear. The guards wouldn’t let me past the entrance. And I also tried to convince the jarl that you weren’t a Caster or a thief. She didn’t listen. I guess the accusations were true, though, weren’t they?”

“Listen, Vilkas, I am so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But, technically, I’m not anymore because I was kicked out of the Guild. For being the other thing,” she explained.

“Yeah, yeah. Your friend explained that to me. Look, considering some of the things I’ve seen you do and what Kodlak sees in you, I won’t say anything about it. But, I think we have a bigger problem right now,” he said, gesturing at the shack behind him.

“What is it?”

“See for yourself.” There was a solemn, sad look in his eyes. She walked up onto the porch, finding the door slightly ajar; the “protected” shadow mark was etched into the wood frame. She opened it a bit more and the smell that hit her made her gag; she would’ve thrown up if there had actually been something on her stomach.

Covering her mouth and nose, she pushed farther into the shack.

“Oh gods,” was all she could say as she looked at the corpse on the floor. It seemed to be a woman. She had been stabbed in the chest multiple times. Sybil moved around the body, looking around the house for any sign of who the woman had been. A piece of paper was laying on the small dining table. Sybil’s pulse picked up as she read the parchment.

**_My Dearest Corliss,_ **

**_Darling, I need you to know something that I’ve kept hidden from you, about yours and Calum’s father. He is an officer in the Imperial Army. He’s known as General Tullius. Because of his position, some bad people have sent assassin’s after us. Hopefully, by the time you read this, I’ll have sent you off somewhere safe, out of their reach. But don’t worry because I know you two will be fine without me. Remember that tears won’t bring me back. Just keep moving forward, my little bird. I love you. Always._ **

**_Your momma,_ **

**_Liana_**

“Liana…” Sybil turned to look at the corpse again. _She was their mother…_

She had felt tears welling in her eyes when the door creaked. “Sybil?”

“Their mother, she was the kids’ mother, Vilkas.” She wondered if Corliss had gotten a chance to read the letter, if she even knew who her father was. After Sybil took a deep breath, she spoke again. “We should bury her, put her to rest.” He nodded and went off to look for a couple of shovels.

After an hour or so of digging, they moved her body to the grave, taking extra care as the lowered her in. They covered the grave, and Sybil layed some wildflowers she’d found nearby on the mound.

She and Vilkas sat on the porch steps, watching the as sun set. Golden rays melted over the land beautifully, completely contrasting the mournful feeling hanging in the air. It had been a few hours since the near-execution, so Sybil was beginning to become worried about Brynjolf. She really hoped he managed to get her robes back; night was approaching, and the linen did little to fight the oncoming chill. She had thought about going inside the shack, but couldn’t find the stomach to.

She leaned against Vilkas’ shoulder, feeling the exhaustion catching up to her.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked, apparently sensing the change in her.

She thought about it for a moment, counting on her fingers. “Four days ago, the morning we left Solitude,” she informed, hearing his disapproving grunt. “Why do you care?” She sluggishly lolled her head to look up at him.

“It’s not healthy, that’s why,” he deadpanned.

“Pssh, this is nothing. Before I joined the Companions, I was on a strict schedule of four hours a night, every few nights. I almost never had consecutive days of sleep.”

“Why would you do that to yourself?” he asked, looking concerned. However, there was also a look of understanding in his eyes.

“No rest for the wicked, Dickhead. I had too much to do. Still do, actually. Plus, I just couldn’t sleep when I tried, so I gave up. Until you gave me those potions, which I have missed dearly. Ugh, I hate this damn thing,” she complained, tugging at the collar still clamped around her neck. It was starting to get itchy.

“By the divines, I am _so_ sorry,” he said as he began frantically looking around for something. He found it, holding up a small key. _You have to be fucking kidding me…_ “I completely forgot I had this thing.”

She remained silent as he removed the collar, sighing with relief at the lack of pressure. When it fell to the ground, she said, “You’re a fucking moron, Dickhead.”

“Yeah. I guess I deserved that one, huh?” he said with a chuckle, watching as she stood, grabbing the collar. She pulled her arm back and threw the gods-forsaken thing clear off the mountain.

“I hope I never have to wear one of those again,” she murmured. After a moment, she felt a surge pass through her body as her magical power returned. She let small flames dance over her fingers as she returned to her spot, once again leaning against her friend. “You don’t mind if I sleep here for a bit, do you?”

“Not at all,” he answered.

“Good because I was going to either way,” she quipped, yawning.

“I knew you were going to say that,” he said, chuckling. “Get some rest, Starshine. I’ll wait for your friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, do you guys like her new nickname? Because I found it adorable.


	16. "You're into him, aren't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between travelling, constantly doing things with family, and having crappy Wi-Fi, it's been next to impossible to find the time and the means to get this chapter uploaded, so I'm sorry for taking so much longer than promised. 
> 
> This is a semi-short chapter with just some talk between Syb and Bryn. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy!

**_Tirdas, 10 th day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (About 4 A.M.)_ **

 

Sybil woke from her nightmare with a start, sitting bolt upright. Her breathing was ragged, and sweat made the linen clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin. Her gaze darted around, and she quickly found that she was inside the shack. She was on a bed pushed up against the wall.

Luckily, the rotting smell had dispersed, having aired out earlier. The window above the table across the room was open, the shutters squeaking lightly as they swayed in the wind. It allowed some moonlight to show through, the light glinting off something.

She realized that the glint came from Vilkas’ armour, her friend slouched over the table, sleeping soundly. She smiled and watched his steady breathing for a few moments.

She felt her eyes widen when she truly processed that they were _inside_ the shack. The odd, almost disrespectful feeling Sybil had gotten earlier crawled up her spine, making her extremely uneasy. She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them, scooting back on the bed. _Liana's_  bed. _So creepy…Just try not to think about it, Sybil…_ But no matter what, she couldn’t get the fact that this was the house of a murdered woman out of her head. A murdered woman who happened to be the mother of her adopted children.

Sybil usually loved the darkness, but when she was in a place like this, it really creeped her the fuck out. The squeak of the shutters made her yelp, and she instantly clamped a hand over her mouth.

Vilkas seemed to stir slightly but didn’t completely come to; after a moment, she sighed with relief. The last thing she wanted to do was wake him up for such a stupid reason. But she wouldn’t mind having someone else up with her. _No, I can’t bother him._

She absently wondered if he had carried her into the shack after she had fell asleep. _He could’ve just woke me up, saved himself the trouble…_ She had been too busy thinking about it to realize that the front door was slowly opening. When she noticed it, she felt as if her body was completely petrified.

A large, shadowed figure entered the shack, its footsteps deathly silent. It crossed to the table, apparently not having noticed her. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and it felt as if she couldn’t breathe. After the form looked over Vilkas, it turned and began walking towards her.

Her heart began beating impossibly faster, and she thought she was going to pass out from the fear. She had never been good at dealing with spirits; it was always completely terrifying to go through a haunted crypt.

The figure reached the edge of the bed. It felt as if her heart was going to explode. “Lass?” it whispered, and her face broke into a huge smile.

“Brynjolf?! Why the hell were you being so quiet and creepy?” she hissed, though her tone held no real malice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, lass. I just didn’t want to risk waking you guys if you were still out,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. There was a moment of silence and then, “Sybil, I have a question.” He pulled down the hood of his Thieves’ Guiled armour, though his face remained shadowed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Whose grave is outside?” His voice sounded sad, almost knowing.

Sybil paused for a moment, not used to him sounding so sad. “It belongs to the woman who lived here, Liana. When I got here, she had already been dead for a week or two. Apparently, she had been assassinated because of her children being General Tullius’. Also, her children are the same ones I took in.” She looked over to see Vilkas still sound asleep, completely undisturbed by she and Bryn’s talking.

She heard a sharp intake of breath. “I-I knew she had two kids, though I never met her or them; I should’ve connected the dots when you told me where you found them. Gods, we have been losing so many Allies lately…”

“We should try to look on the bright side, though. Her children are safe, and she’s in Sovngarde now,” she reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder. Losing an Ally was always hard on the Guild. Allies would take in thieves on the run and provide protection, food, a bed to sleep in. Over the years, she had met and been taken care of by several of the Allies. Many of them had either died naturally or been executed for involvement with the Guild.

“Yeah, I know, lass. It’s just horrible to think that she died because the Guild hadn’t been protecting her enough. By the way, I got your things from the prison,” he said, changing the subject. He handed her a leather messenger bag, and she glanced over to Vilkas’ still sleeping form again before she began searching through the it. “You shouldn’t worry about waking him. Us just talking like this won’t bother him,” Bryn mentioned.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she pulled her mage robes out of the bag.

“I’ve seen how you keep checking on him. Trust me, he won’t be waking up for a while; he’s spent the past few days doing nothing but planning to get you back. And when we finally pulled a plan together, the rest of his time was spent worrying over you. That man has to be exhausted.”

“Worrying over me? That doesn’t really surprise me, honestly,” she stated, sighing. Sybil would never admit it, but she was actually touched by how much he cared.

Brynjolf chuckled quietly. “He was constantly wondering if you were getting any sleep, if the guards were mistreating you, or if you they were giving you any food. You’re pretty lucky to have someone to care so much. Speaking of which, how was your stay in the jail?”

“Horrible, to put it simply. I didn’t sleep a wink. The guards never layed a hand on me, but they were constantly insulting my “kind.” Plus, they hardly fed me anything. You wouldn’t happen to have any food on you, would you?” she asked as she finally noticed the painful gnawing feeling in her empty stomach.

“There should be something in the bag,” he said, gesturing to it. She looked through it again, finding a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese wrapped in cloth, and a bottle of alto wine. She offhandedly wondered how she didn’t notice the items before.

Bryn went to find a candle, and she got up as well, creeping silently over to the table. She smiled at how peaceful her friend looked, snoring quietly. After a moment, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Bryn beckoning her back over to the bed, a couple of candles in hand.

As they settled back down, she lit the candles with magic, glad to have firelight rather than just moonlight. Brynjolf cut off pieces of the bread and cheese, wrapping the extras in the cloth. The pair ate in silence and took alternating drinks from the wine bottle.

After he finished his food, Brynjolf turned to her, smirking. “You’re into him, aren’t you?”

Sybil, caught off guard, nearly choked on her drink of wine. She sputtered for a moment, the smirk on Brynjolf’s face only growing. “Say what?” she scoffed.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then. _Come on_ , I saw the way you were just looking at him. And the way he worked so hard to try and get you out? He was practically begging the jarl to let you off the hook. He looked so defeated when he left the palace that I just had to help him; even after I told him who you and I were involved with, he didn’t back out on you. I mean, most people wouldn’t do that for just a normal friend, so I’m getting this feeling that he has a thing for you, too.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded. “W-well, he’s a Companion. They have this big honour complex, and I’m pretty sure leaving a friend behind to die is considered dishonourable,” she said defiantly.

“That’s a lame excuse, Sybil. Especially for you,” he deadpanned.

She snickered and rolled her eyes. “How do you know he was “begging” the jarl anyway?”

“I had a job to do in the palace, and I happened to be there when he was,” he explained, shrugging.

Sybil sighed and glanced over to Vilkas again. “I just-I mean, I only met him a few weeks ago, Bryn.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight, lass?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. _Did he just say that with a straight face?_

“You have to be kidding me. First of all, yes, I have. But I don’t believe in it. And second, it was more like mutual hatred at first sight. I mean, come on. I call him a dickhead or an ass on a regular basis.”

“Eh, terms of endearment,” he said, biting back a chuckle.

“Ugh. You aren’t gonna let up on this, are you?” She sighed when he shook his head.

“Nope. I think you two are awesome for each other.”

“Well, then why don’t you start a fan club? Delphine and Kenton can join you.” Bryn laughed quietly to himself, but she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if I’m into him or not. I don’t have time for a relationship; with this whole dragon problem, I have more stress on my shoulders than ever. And then the fucking purge everyone’s putting on Casters? I won’t even live long enough to have one,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes, you will, lass. It may just be a little more difficult.”

“Yeah, like that’s anything new,” she murmured to herself. The grimace on Bryn’s face told her that he’d heard her. She quickly changed the subject. “Speaking of the dragon problem, I guess I should tell you why I was in Riften.”

Sybil proceeded to inform him about what happened at the Embassy and the man they were looking for. At the mention of Esbern’s name, recognition glinted in his eyes, but he seemed to hesitate.

“I don’t know, lass. He’s made it very clear that he will _not_ be leaving the warrens ever again. It could take some work to get him to come along.”

She had expected that, so she had questioned Delphine about what they should do. Sybil told him exactly what Delphine had said, explaining that it should help him retrieve the man. Brynjolf nodded and stood silently. A quiet goodbye and a wish of luck were exchanged, and the man hurried back into the night, leaving her alone once again.

Before Sybil blew out the candles, she looked over to her unconscious friend and smiled to herself. Then, a thought occurred to her. _We’re going to have to stay in this creepy house until Bryn gets Esbern. Well, shit…_

She laid back down, remaining wide awake for quite a while, but had just barely begun to doze off as the sun began to crest over the horizon, painting the once dark shack with beautiful pinks and oranges. The colours invaded her dreams, brightly painting them, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't make any promises on when the next part will be up because something always seems to happen when I do! Just know that it WILL be coming!


	17. Frenzied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say that I realized I had already used the name Avery in another story, so I've changed it to Liana in the last chapter.

**_Turdas, 13th day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (Around 10 A.M.)_ **

****

“Dickhead! Pack your things!” Vilkas heard Sybil yell from outside the shack. He walked onto the porch, annoyed by the near sweltering summer heat. She was standing just a few feet from the porch steps, smiling up at him. She had her mage robes donned, seemingly unbothered by the heat.

“All of my things are already on my person, Sybil. Why?” She rolled her eyes at his response, but continued smiling.

“We get to leave, obviously! Bryn sent a messenger ahead. He said that the Thalmor presence has increased around Riften, so he’s going to sneak Esbern out and lay low here for a while. That means we can go on ahead and get other things done while we wait; plus, we won’t have to sleep in the creepy shack anymore,” she explained, Vilkas marveling at how beautiful her smile was as she did.

He felt a small smile of his own tugging at his lips as she said, “creepy shack.” He would be the first to admit that it was a little off putting to be taking refuge in a dead woman’s house. However, he was willing to stay if he had to. Sybil, on the other hand, had opted to stay outside as much as she possibly could during the day and took loads of convincing to come in at night. Even after he’d manage to convince her, she’d stay up most of the night, inadvertently keeping him up as well.

“So, are we headed back to Whiterun?” he asked as Sybil hurried inside to grab the leather satchel that Brynjolf had given her during his nighttime visit that Vilkas had been completely unaware of. It unnerved him to know that he’d let his guard down enough to let someone sneak in; he usually was a lot more careful about it.

“Yep,” she confirmed as she walked back out, closing the door behind her. “Do you think I’ll be able to finally get a job?”

“Most likely. Someone’s always got work to hand out, so you should just ask Aela or Farkas about it.” He followed her as she began walking down the path, casting a glance at the grave as he passed.

“You told me Farkas is your brother, right?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yeah. He’s my twin,” he casually mentioned. She surprised him by stopping dead in her tracks and whirling to face him.

“You two are twins? I mean, I could guess that you were obviously closely related, but I was thinking that he was just your older brother, not your twin,” she said, looking at him with her head tilted slightly.

“Well, we are. And why would you think he’s my older brother?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow. Vilkas was actually older than Farkas by a few minutes.

“I guess it’s because you guys seem really different to me. Don’t get me wrong, you’re tall as fuck, but he’s like…” She trailed off, stretching her arms in the air and waving them around a little, eliciting a laugh from the both of them. “And then he has an extremely different accent than yours, and I guess I just assumed that twins would kind of share something like that.”

He watched in amusement as she rambled on, sometimes motioning wildly with her hands. They had begun walking again, and as he listened, he realized that he and his brother _had_ grown to be quite different, only sharing some physical features.

After a few more moments, she looked over at him, shaking her head. “I just can’t believe you two are twins.”

He chuckled and smirked at her. “Well, for future reference, I’m older than him by about five minutes.”

 

************************************************************************************************

**_(About an hour later)_ **

 

Sybil watched the birds fly through the trees as she ambled down the stone road, Vilkas lagging behind a bit. The breeze had picked up since they left the creepy shack, making the bright green leaves dance in the trees.

Most of the walk had been spent in comfortable silence, besides when she learned that Vilkas and Farkas were actually twins. They were on the path headed towards Helgen, planning to take a road past the decimated town and make their way through Riverwood. They had thought it best to let Delphine know about Esbern, so it was just one stop away from making it to Whiterun.

“Hey, Sybil. Can I ask you a-” Vilkas started, but stopped as she quickly held a hand up.

She had noticed an armoured man standing on the side of the rode, leaning casually against a tree. He was looking directly at her. Flames instantly sparked to life in her hands. She heard Vilkas draw his sword, and in seconds they were surrounded by at least forty bandits. The first man she had seen pushed to the front. She knew him from somewhere, recognized the steel armor and messy blond hair.

“Hello, miss Sybil. It’s been a while,” he drawled, the too nice tone creeping her out. His demeanor was kind, but his hard, dark eyes burned with murderous intent.

“Do I know you?” She furrowed her brow, trying to remember. When she noticed the skull with a knife piercing its crown engraved into his shoulder plates, she realized exactly how screwed she and Vilkas were.

They were the bandits of clan Bloodlust, the largest and richest clan in Skyrim, even though they’d formed only about six months ago. They were also the most brutal, making everyone too scared to face them.

And she had stolen from them a couple months back. Had stolen quite a lot.

_Well, shit._

“The look on your face tells me that you do.” He smirked. “Now, let’s get straight to the point here. You took something very valuable from us and our boss really wants it back. So, hand it over.”

“I took a considerable number of valuable items that night. I’m afraid I don’t know which one you’re speaking of,” she replied, trying to clench down the rising panic. They were outnumbered by far. If the bandits attacked, she and Vilkas would probably live for thirty seconds, and that was hopeful thinking.

And of course, she knew what he was talking about; she was just stalling, grasping for a plan of escape. She had stolen a dagger from the quarters of the clan leader, Axel. It was made from dragon bone, intricately designed and, apparently, was used by Martin Septim himself in the fight against Mehrunes Dagon and his deadric minions. And it was very expensive. Unfortunately, she hadn’t found a merchant with enough money to take it off her hands.

The man, who she finally remembered was Axel’s second-in-command, Seth, growled at her feigned ignorance. She felt Vilkas shift behind her, could sense that they were back to back.

“You know exactly what we want, Sybil. The dagger. If you give it back now, we’ll let you and your little friend go without any bloodshed.”

“Ohhh, that little thing! I sold that trinket off a week ago.” She waved a hand nonchalantly, nearly forgetting about the flames still curling around her fingers. They fanned out slightly, making one of the nearby bandits flinch back.

He watched her, skepticism and anger blooming in his face. He clenched his jaw. “I really do hate liars.”

“That’s pretty ironic considering you are one yourself,” she retorted.

“I’ve had enough of this. Take it off her corpse, boys. And kill the brute, too. I want his armor.”

Her ears were assaulted with the unsheathing of several dozens of weapons. They all surged forward, and her palms raised instantly, white hot flames barbequing three men. Dodging several swords, axes, and the like, she was able to roast several more before she was sliced once in the arm and a second time in the leg. After she burned the man that landed the hits, she heard a bone-chilling howl coming from somewhere behind her, which was accompanied by several ridiculously high-pitched screams of terror.

Everyone had frozen. She spun towards the sound, her mouth dropping open when she saw Vilkas morphing into a werewolf. She had read about them, even thought she’d seen one running after a stag before, but she’d never gotten up close and personal.

A second howl sent the bandits into a frenzy. They all tried to run away, but Vilkas, or the thing that had replaced him, was faster. All she could think to do was back away, pressing herself against a tree and just barely having enough of a mind to catch herself before she stepped on a charred body. She watched in horror as Vilkas tore the bandits apart, wanting so badly to look away but seeming unable to. In her peripherals, she noticed Seth limping away, one hand covering an eye. She absently thought that he would have a chance to escape the bloodbath considering how far he’d already made it.

Sybil flinched as the lower half of a body smacked into a nearby tree, splattering blood onto her blue robes. The road had turned crimson and was littered with body parts. She realized there were only four people left, all shouting and crying in terror, one trying to crawl to safety with one leg missing and the other hanging at an odd angle. She had to force herself to close her eyes to keep from puking, the metallic scent and gore overwhelming her senses.

She cringed as she listened to the remaining men being torn apart, something thudding into the tree beside her once again. She realized that she was shaking violently in fear. Her eyes shot open when she heard a low, guttural growl.

He was stalking towards her, a hungry glint in his eyes. His sharp canines glistened with blood. She felt hot tears roll down her cheeks when she understood that he was going to kill her, shred her like the bandits.

And she would let him. She could never bring herself to hurt him, not even this monstrous, gore-covered, blood-thirsty form he had become. He was her friend, someone she looked up to and someone who had saved her several times. Someone that, as Bryn had put it, she had “a thing” for.

He was closing in on her, rising from his prowling position. He towered over her, standing at least nine feet tall, and another rumbling growl met her ears.

She was plastered to the tree trunk, her breathing coming in rapid pants. “Vilkas, please…,” she almost sobbed. “Please stop. You know you don’t want to hurt me.” His growling quieted as he leaned in, sniffing at her neck. He seemed to hesitate, sniffing again. He quickly scrambled back onto all fours, eliciting a fearful yelp from her. Recognition had replaced the wildness in his ruby eyes.

Another moment of hesitation, and then he whirled around, hurdling into the tree line opposite her.

With a sob of relief, she sank down, any remaining strength draining from her body. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been that scared for her life.

She looked around slowly, the area deathly silent. Every bird was mute, all wind had stilled. All she could do was numbly sit there, tears of both fear and relief flowing down her face. She wondered if he would come back as himself or come back as the werewolf, ready to finish the job. Or if he’d come back at all.

She jumped when bushes rustled across the way, her breathing becoming uneven again. Vilkas walked out of the shadows the trees had to offer. He surveyed the destruction he had caused, avoiding her eyes.

His hair was mussed, covered in blood like his armor. He seemed unknowing of what to do next, but all the rage had melted away.

Finally, he met her gaze. “I’m really sorry you had to see that, Sybil.” His blue eyes shifted to the wounds she had been subconsciously putting pressure on. “Did I do that?” When she shook her head, he took a couple steps toward her and she immediately flinched.

His shoulders fell and he seemed to nod to himself. “Right, okay. You have every right to fear me and not trust me anymore. I swear I’ll explain everything to you, but we need to get away from this…mess and get your wounds dressed first.” His eyes looked both apologetic and pleading. “Please, Sybil.”

She didn’t know what to do. She just watched him rip nearly forty men apart like it was nothing. She could still feel herself shaking, but she wanted to trust him so badly.

“I realize that I’ve probably completely traumatized you, and I am so sorry, but I promise I won’t hurt you. We need to get those wounds bandaged or they might get infected.” He took a few hesitant steps toward her, and she had to restrain every muscle in her body to keep from pressing herself any harder against the trunk.

The tears had stopped, leaving her cheeks wet and chilled in the breeze.

He tentatively held his hand out to her. Taking a deep breath, she gave him her good one. He gently lifted her, putting the good arm around his neck and wrapped one of his own around her waist.

They began walking on their original route, navigating through the blood and gore, and came across a roadside pond ten minutes later. He sat her down a bit from the edge of it, and she numbly watched fish dart around in the crystal waters. Her reflection showed a bruise forming on her right cheek, where someone had apparently landed a hit on her.

“Can you, uh, do your magic thing?” He stood quietly as she summoned some of her bandages and a healing potion. After downing the sweet elixir, she stayed still as Vilkas cleaned the wounds and gently wrapped them. She was amazed at how calm he was now. “You’ll have to sew the cloth back together. This is why I keep telling you to wear armor.”

“Armor just slows me down,” she said, failing to sound defensive. Her own voice surprised her, quiet and fragile, nothing like it normally was. Vilkas’s worried eyes met hers. “Are you going to tell me what that was now?”

“I’ll tell you but get comfortable. It’s a long story.”

 

************************************************************************************************

 

“So, this lycanthropy, does it have a cure?” Sybil asked slowly, processing the things Vilkas had just revealed.

As it turned out, everyone in the Circle was a werewolf. The lycanthropy ran back for generations and past Circle members had all been required to accept it.

“Not as far as we know, although Kodlak has been searching for one for the past few years, despite most of the Circle being against it,” he explained, his gaze shifting thoughtfully across the pond waters.

“Most?” she inquired.

“Aela, Skjor, and maybe even Farkas. He used to help in the search but has recently just seemed to give up on it. So, now it’s just Kodlak and I looking.”

“Why get rid of that power? You have so much leverage in a battle; you’re practically invincible,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed, a saddened look entering his eyes. “It…makes things very difficult. I’ve always had a hard time controlling myself during the transformations, and it’s a struggle not too transform most of the time. That’s why I’ve always done everything in my power to stay calm, control my emotions, and it’s part of the reason I don’t like that teleportation spell. If I panic, I could lose control and risk hurting someone.”

“You have to deal with it constantly?” she asked, practically at whisper level. She never would have guessed that _Vilkas_ , of all people, had an internal war that he could hardly contain.

“Constantly.” He nodded. “It has been getting worse these past few months, too. So, I completely understand if you don’t want me to travel with you anymore.”

“No, I want you to stay with me!” she blurted out without thinking. Vilkas looked shocked and confused at her sudden outburst. “I don’t care if you’re a werewolf, that’s completely fine with me… You’re my friend, and I’ll stand by you, even if I did just watch you rip forty bandits to shreds.”

Vilkas chuckled, but it sounded bitter. He shook his head, and spoke after a moment. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“Ah, good. I was certainly trying,” she joked, this time getting an actual laugh from him. But after another beat, he sighed.

“Then, I must ask something serious of you.” Sybil nodded for him to continue when he met her gaze. “If I do lose control like that, especially if it puts someone I care about at risk, please do not hesitate to kill me.”

She sat there silently, shocked that he’d ask that of her. It honestly pissed her off.

“No,” she said firmly when she finally found her words.

“Sybil, I’ve seen you fight. You’re probably the only one in Jorrvaskr that could do it-” he tried to explain.

“I said no, Vilkas. I won’t do it; I won’t kill you.”

“But-”

“We’ll just have to find a damn cure because I _will not_ kill you,” she stated adamantly, determined to get it through his thick fucking skull. Sybil stood, ignoring his shocked expression, and paced to the edge of the water.

After a moment, he asked, “Why won’t you?” The question held no emotion, no bitterness. Just curiosity.

She turned back to look at him, seeing real confusion in his eyes. _He’s a fucking moron…_

“Because I don’t kill people I care for, Dickhead. No matter the reason.”


	18. You Wanted To Ask Me Something

**_Turdas, 13 th Day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (About 10 P.M.)_ **

 

Sybil walked down the large hall of Jorrvaskr’s living quarters, headed for Vilkas’ room. Her cleaned robes swished around her feet, her steps echoing in the near empty area. Most of the Companions were in the mead hall, laughing and feasting together jovially.

They had quickly stopped by Delphine’s inn to inform her of Esbern’s whereabouts, and had received many questions on why they were covered with blood. She and Vilkas had both evaded the questions. However, Sybil was surprised to find that the guards and citizens of Whiterun were used to seeing Companions clad in bloody armour when coming home.

She approached Vilkas’ open door and found him sitting in a chair, sharpening his sword. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, flashing a small smile at her.

“Hey,” he greeted, setting his sword to the side.

“Hey,” she responded. “I was just thinking about earlier, and I realized that you wanted to ask me something. Before the whole ambush interrupted you, that is.”

He chuckled softly and gestured for her to sit. Although, before she did, he mentioned, “It’s probably something best discussed behind closed doors.” Nodding, she lightly shut the doors and sat in the chair he’d motioned to.

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

“We’re you involved in Commander Caius’ murder?” Vilkas asked, cutting right to the chase.

His question definitely alarmed her, and she opened her mouth to deny it but closed it when no answer came. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. So, she dodged the question with one of her own.

“Why do you think I was involved?”

“It was pretty easy to figure out when I discovered your connection to the Thieves’ Guild. Sabjorn being framed for the poisoning of the commander would obviously put him out of business. Honningbrew was then replaced by Black-briar, and everyone knows that family is deeply involved with the Guild. Also, your eagerness to get somewhere that afternoon made you seem just a tad bit suspicious.” He looked at her expectantly for a moment, but seemed to remember something. “ _But_ the Thieves’ Guild doesn’t usually tolerate murder; so, what happened?”

Sybil looked down at her hands, feeling like a child caught doing something wrong. _Yeah, something very wrong, you idiot…_ “He wasn’t supposed to die,” she finally confessed, still not looking up. “I didn’t put enough poison in the vat to kill someone. Just enough to notice something was wrong.”

After a moment of quiet, he spoke again. “Well, I wanted you to know that I looked into it some more. It wasn’t your fault, Syb.”

She quickly looked up at him, raising an incredulous eyebrow. “How can you say that? I poisoned him, Vilkas. I killed him.” She realized as those words left her mouth that the commander’s death hadn’t stopped bothering her. She tried to stay away from killing innocents. That’s why Astrid usually saved the contracts on mass murderers, rapists, abusers, and the like specifically for Sybil. She was ruthless when it came to making them suffer.

“No, you didn’t. According to the coroner, it wasn’t the rat poison that killed him. He had lung problems, and it was simply a case of things happening at the wrong place and time. So, he wasn’t murdered; he would’ve died with or without the poison,” he explained.

“But…but why did you ask me if I was involved in his murder if you knew that he’d died of natural causes?” she asked, confused.

“Oh, I just wanted to see if you’d show remorse. Just making sure you aren’t also a part of the Dark Brotherhood,” he casually said, relaxing back in his chair. _He has no idea…_

“Why does that make you so sure?” Sybil decided she wanted to push her luck just a bit.

“Because, Sybil, the day I see a remorseful assassin will be the day I’ve seen everything,” he joked. She easily played along, hoping he’d never find out about her ties to them. _If he does find out, there will_ definitely _be no coming back from it._

************************************************************************************************

Sybil exited his room, exhaling slowly when she closed his door. She had turned the corner when she heard her name called from behind her. She turned to see that it was Kodlak sitting at a table and smiling warmly at her.

“Come. Sit with me, child,” he said kindly.

Though exhausted from the day’s events and yearning for a bed, she wasn’t going to deny the elder, so she joined him at the small table.

“So, I’ve heard that you had been…brutally, to say the least, shown the Circle’s secret today. How are you handling it?” he asked, seeming genuinely concerned.

“Handling the secret, or the way I was shown?” she asked, getting a soft chuckle in response. “Well, I’m surprised, to put it simply. Especially hearing that Vilkas struggles with it so much.” Sybil looked down at her hands instinctively, feeling embarrassed for worrying about him, though she didn’t know why.

“You needn’t fret over him, child. Take it from me, he’s learned to get a handle on it. It’s very rare that he slips up like today,” Kodlak explained, though he wasn’t completely able to hide the worry in his own voice.

“I’m honestly a little thankful for this “slip up” because if it hadn’t of happened, we’d both probably be very dead right now,” she half-joked. “I just feel really bad because he kept apologizing, no matter how many times I’d tell him that I’m okay.” She couldn’t explain it, but Sybil felt as if she could tell Kodlak all her troubles. _Like the father figure I never had…_

“Well, are you okay? I’ve found that Vilkas has a particular knack for reading people’s emotions and body language, so he may see something that you don’t yet. He’s always had a fear of people he cares for being afraid of him. So, maybe he can see your fear of him because he’s constantly looking for it.”

Sybil took a deep breath, processing the elder’s words. “I’m not scared of him, though. I mean, I was for a little while after. But then, he asked me if…if I would kill him if he ever lost control again, and…it honestly broke my heart. He probably told you that I refused,” she mentioned.

“Refused very adamantly, yes,” he confirmed, smiling and motioning for her to continue.

“I just kind of knew that I would never have to be afraid of him. Because he won’t hurt me, and I _definitely_ won’t hurt him. And I kind of sound silly right now,” she admitted, twiddling her thumbs.

“No, you don’t. You sound like someone who doesn’t want to see her friend die, especially not by your own hands. It’s completely understandable, my child,” he assured. After a moment of pause, he sighed. “I am honestly very glad that you refused, Sybil. He needs someone that will care enough to insist on helping him, not hurting him.”

She looked up at him and felt a small smile tugging at her lips as she listened. “What can I do to help find the cure?”

Kodlak sighed again and shook his head. “We shouldn’t talk about it tonight. Go and get some rest, child.” After a second of hesitation, she nodded and walked out of the room after thanking him for letting her talk and telling him goodnight.

As he watched her head towards the sleeping quarters, he shook his head again, chuckling softly. “Ah, young love. It’s so refreshing to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kodlak ships it.


	19. A Lot of Talking

**_Middas, 19 th day of Sun’s height, 4E 201 (Mid-Afternoon)_ **

 

Sybil sat on the steps of the pavilion, having just finished a training session with Vilkas. Now, he was training a girl named Ria. Apparently, she had been the newest Companion until Sybil came along. At least, that’s what the young woman kept reminding her of, almost passive-aggressively.

“Should I be holding the blade further away than a smaller one?” Ria asked her instructor.

Vilkas, who she now noticed had been staring at her, snapped back to reality, whipping his head around to his student. “What’d you say?”

_That’s odd. Why the hell was he staring at me?_

“The blade. How am I supposed to hold it?”

“Well, if you keep it in close, you’ll have more control, but it can be more difficult to balance a strike,” he responded, now seeming completely focused on the task at hand.

“I guess that comes down to footwork, then,” Ria said.

He nodded. “Exactly. When you have a big, heavy weight swinging around your upper body, your lower body must compensate, or you’ll fall right over.”

Sybil heard footsteps approaching from behind, and turned to see Aela sitting down beside her. “So, how you holdin’ up?”

“What a loaded question, Aela,” she joked. She tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail behind her ear.

“Fine, I’ll narrow it down a bit. How has Jorrvaskr been treating you? I know you’ve been so busy doing jobs that I’ve hardly gotten to see you.” The huntress watched her expectantly. “So many, in fact, that one begins to wonder if you’re okay,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“What do you mean? I’m fine,” Sybil said, her defensive tone just proving Aela’s point. She wasn’t okay. Ever since the ambush, her nightmares had gotten worse, so she hardly slept. She kept taking on more jobs so that she could keep from thinking too much about them. She guessed didn’t think anybody would notice.

“Mhm, sure,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She quit pushing the subject, though. However, she turned to one even worse. “Have you noticed how Vilkas has been staring at you lately?” Thankfully, she had leaned in close so no one else would hear her.

Sybil raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Him? Staring at me?”

“He was literally just doing it a second ago.”

“Well, yeah, he was. But that was only one time. Plus, he was probably just staring off into space thinking or something and happened to be looking in this general direction.”

“Oh, the things you don’t see,” Aela said to herself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She thought for a moment and remembered something. “So, where do you keep sneaking off to in the middle of the night?”

Sybil stiffened. _How the hell does she know about that?_

Lately, as her nightmares grew worse, she’d been longing for her home and children in Riften. So, she’d started sneaking out of the mead hall and paying the stable owners to let her borrow a horse for the night. She’d ride to Riften, get into her house through the back door since the guards were still after her, and stay for a while. Usually the kids weren’t up at that hour, but she had learned that Lydia was a bit of an insomniac as well. They’d stay up, and she’d hear as much as she could about how the children were doing.

Then, before dawn, she’d ride back to Whiterun.

But as she and Lydia had talked about the children, a bit of information truly sank in. The letter from their mother, Liana, mentioned who the father was. General Tullius, the general of the Imperial army occupying Skyrim. That was going to be one hell of a talk she was going to have to have with them. And she wouldn’t be able to have until she could slip away during the day.

Sybil had wondered if Tullius had actually cared for Liana and her children, or if he just treated her as someone to get it on with. _Maybe he doesn’t even know that he has children…_

She also worried if he did know about them. He had the power to come take them away. But even worse, he also had the power to send more assassins after them, if he had been the one to send the assassin after their mother.

“Hey, are you good, girly?” Aela asked, waving a hand in front of her face. _Guess I got lost in thought._

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” she lied quickly. “And to answer your other question, I just like to go for walks. It usually helps me sleep.”

“Oh, cool. So, are you gonna be taking any more jobs this week?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Sybil joked, making the inquisitive huntress chuckle. “Yeah, I’ll be taking one more today. Then, I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” She noticed Vilkas quickly glance at her, and she knew he had heard her.

“Aw, why?”

“Official Dragonborn business. It’s probably gonna be really boring, though. I’ll just be gone a few days.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

************************************************************************************************

**_Loredas, 22 nd day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (Mid-Morning)_ **

 

Vilkas stood in the training yard, arms crossed and head in the clouds.

He was thinking about Sybil, who had been obstructing his thoughts more so then usual for the past week. She had left two days before, telling him that she had to go meet with Delphine and Esbern, apparently having gotten a message from Brynjolf. She had asked him to come with her, but he had decided that it’d be better to stay at Jorrvaskr, working with the other whelps. He had felt terrible when he sensed the hint of disappointment in her voice as she said goodbye.

“Vilkas,” his name snapped him out of his reverie. He looked over to see Skjor raising an eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong with you? I’ve called to you several times already.”

“It’s nothing. What do you want?” Vilkas asked, tiredly running a hand over his face. Skjor walked towards him, looking at him suspiciously.

“Well, you had asked me to find an initiation job for Sybil, and I think I did,” he explained.

“Really now? What will she have to do?”

“Retrieve some of the pieces of Wuuthrad. At least she’ll have to go to the place they’re rumoured to be. Farkas will go with her since you’ve already vouched for her.”

Vilkas nodded. “How did you hear about it?”

“A scholar came to me today. I’m not sure if there’s any truth to his words, but we can certainly check,” he said.

“When are you going to give the job to her?” he asked, wondering if she’d be able to actually do it soon considering how busy she’d been with other things.

“I’ll give it a couple of weeks, let her continue working. We’ll do it when the time is right,” Skjor informed.

He nodded again. “Okay. Good.”

Skjor was silent for a moment, studying his friend who had gone off into his own world again. “Vilkas, are you sure you’re okay? You seem more distant than ever.”

“What? I’m not distant, Skjor,” Vilkas said defensively.

The older man huffed. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

************************************************************************************************

**_Middas, 26 th day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (Around 8 P.M.)_ **

 

“Sybil, can I talk to you? Privately?” Vilkas asked her, tapping on her shoulder. She looked up at him from her spot at the table and nodded. Everyone was pretty rowdy that night, laughing and talking loudly, so no one noticed as they snuck out onto the pavilion. Vilkas got a quiet “thank you” as he held the door open for her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning to him. The bright colours of the sunset reflected mesmerizingly in her hair, the blue ribbon looking purple in the light.

“I had just realized that we never really talked about the ambush. They seemed to know you,” he said as they sat down at one of the large outdoor tables.

“Oh, that,” she murmured. He watched as she began twiddling her thumbs, a little nervous habit he’d picked up one. In that moment, he noticed that she had a bandage wrapped around her palm.

“Why were they after you? I know you stole a dagger, but what was so important about it?”

“Uh, well, it’s a rather _expensive_ trinket. I’m talking worth tens of thousands. And they obviously aren’t willing to let that amount of money just walk out the door,” she joked quietly. She had seemed very quiet since she got back to Jorrvaskr, and he hadn’t gotten the chance to ask her what was wrong. “But the reason I stole it was because of its history. I had heard that it had fallen into their possession, and when Delvin gave me a scouting job on them a few months back, I saw my chance.” She watched him closely for a second before continuing. “If I tell you about it, you have to promise not to tell anyone else. If word gets out, I’ll have scholars all over my ass.”

Vilkas chuckled softly. “I promise not to tell. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Alright,” she said, smirking a little. She took a moment to conjure the dagger. It looked as if the blade was made of bone, jagged and deadly. The hilt shone with finish, gilded with gold, a few rubies and sapphires adorning where blade met handle. “This dagger is made of dragon bone. According to legend, it was used by Martin Septim in the great battle against Mehrunes Dagon when he attacked the Imperial City. It has spilled the blood of many daedra and is said to have a special power only a Septim can wield.”

He gave a low whistle, surprised he’d never heard of it. “How do you know all this?”

“Well, when you have five years to do nothing but read, you learn a lot,” she replied dryly.

“Do you think they’ll come after you for it again?” Vilkas asked after the dagger dematerialized.

“Well, if Seth actually did get away, he’ll probably be telling everyone about what happened. Hopefully, they’ll be too scared to come after me again.”

“Seth?”

“The dude who wanted your armour.”

“Oh.”

“But, if they do come after me again, I’m probably in the safest place in Skyrim,” she quipped.

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably true. They didn’t put up much of a fight against one werewolf; I wonder how they’d fair against five.” After a moment of comfortable silence, he spoke again. “So, what happened with Delphine and Esbern?”

He regretted asking because her mood immediately shifted. She seemed to become almost…depressed. “We travelled to Sky Haven Temple. It was basically the Blades’ base of operations in Skyrim. Oh, by the way, Delphine just happened to forget to mention that she was part of the Blades. It explains why the Thalmor were after her and Esbern.” He slowly nodded. “Also, there’s this thing called Alduin’s Wall; it explains how Alduin was defeated in the Dragon War. Apparently, there’s a shout that can bring a dragon right out of the sky. But it doesn’t actually specify what shout.”

“Are you going to have to go to the Greybeards?” he asked.

“Yep. And usually, I’d be excited to go, but you’ll never guess what else I found out.” Her words seemed bitter.

“What?”

“The Blades and the Greybeards don’t get along very well. I’m probably gonna have to end up picking a side by the time this whole damned thing is over.” She shook her head, looking down. “I hate picking sides, Vilkas. I hate not knowing if I made the right choice.”

_So, this is what has been bothering her…_

“You’ll know which is the right choice, Starshine,” he said, noticing her lips quirk at her nickname. “Just wait and see what happens.”


	20. Fire

**_Tirdas, 1 st day of Last Seed, 4E 201 (Around 11 P.M.)_ **

 

Aela watched Vilkas, becoming very confident in her suspicions. He was _definitely_ staring at Sybil, who was sitting beside her. It wasn’t a creepy stare; it was almost loving.

She and Sybil were sitting by themselves at one jutting end of the large table with the entranced warrior across from them. It was late, and only a couple other whelps were still seated at the table. They were being quite rowdy, as usual, laughing and slapping each other on the back.

She looked over to her mage friend, who was just staring at her uneaten meal with one hand propping her head and the other holding the neck of her mead bottle.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe Vilkas favours you,” she said casually. Sybil choked on her mead, completely caught off guard. After a moment of fitful coughing, she finally found her voice.

“Aela, you can’t joke like that when I take a drink, dammit,” she hissed quietly. Sybil watched as a slow smirk crept onto the huntress’ face.

“I’m not joking. Ever since you found out about the little secret, he’s been staring at you very often. I’ve already brought it up once. Now, it almost seems as if he longs for you company,” she stated in a low, suggestive tone. Her smirk grew as Sybil felt heat rush to her cheeks.

“You must be seriously misreading something, Aela. I mean, he would never have any interest in someone like me, anyway.” She knew that it would be easier for him to find someone that wasn’t constantly under risk of being executed (again) for being a Caster.

Aela raised an eyebrow, noticing sadness in her tone. “Someone like you, huh? Gorgeous, brave, caring, intelligent? And don’t forget smart-mouthed. You sound like the woman of his dreams to me.”

Sybil couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. Aela had taken her doubt in a different light, but her words had definitely boosted her confidence some. She glanced up at Vilkas just in time to see him look away from her. It would be ridiculous to say that she hadn’t noticed him staring at her more after Aela had brought it to her attention the first time. She wanted to believe Aela, truly did, but she couldn’t. “You’re wrong, Aela,” she said softly. “He only sees me as a friend and an underling. Nothing more.”

She heard Aela sigh, obviously aggravated. The warmth of the hearth was beginning to make Sybil tired. After a moment of quiet, she finally looked back to the woman. “I want you to know that since you came feinting into his life, he’s been happier than he has in years.”

Sybil was kind of taken aback by her phrasing. “Feinting into his life?” she asked, confused.

The huntress tilted her head slightly. “You don’t know? He hasn’t mentioned it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, the first night you came to Jorrvaskr and passed out because of the infection, he had been the one to get you help,” she stated plainly.

“What do you mean? I don’t remember seeing him. I thought the fight had stopped, and one of you guys helped me.”

Aela’s eyebrows furrowed. “You probably didn’t see him because he had just come up the stairs. He saw you and was gonna ask if what you were doing here, and he had almost reached you when you fell. The fight didn’t stop until he shouted at someone to go get Danica. You were still slightly conscious, so he and I helped guide you downstairs and into the whelps’ quarters.”

She was silent for a moment. _Why didn’t he tell me?_ “I-I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do. But I think you missed my point-”

“No, no. I didn’t. You just really caught me off guard. And wasn’t he happy before I got here?”

Aela sighed, looking sad. “Rarely, he was. Over the past few years, Vilkas had fallen into a pretty deep depression. Mainly because of the Circle’s secret and the toll it has taken on him. He has grown to believe it a curse, which I don’t exactly agree with. But considering what he goes through and how much he’s had to worry about with it, it’s understandable. But with you, he laughs and smiles and actually seems to loosen up a bit. You bring out something in him that I haven’t seen in a very long time, whether you realize it or not. And I want to thank you for that.”

 _Vilkas struggles with so much…_ She looked at him again, seeing him talking to Vignar, smiling and nodding along to what the older man was saying. “Looking at him, you’d never think anything’s wrong,” she muttered.

“He’s become a master at hiding it,” Aela whispered, still watching the red-head. “If you still don’t believe me about how he feels towards you, I’ll just let time show you.” The huntress could tell she was having difficulty deciding whether or not to believe her, saw her become lost in thought. “By the way, I think he’d be a great father to those children you told me about. The guy has always wanted a family.”

Sybil, who had made the mistake of taking another swig, was once again choked on her mead. As she began another coughing fit, Aela glanced over to Vilkas, and, sure enough, he was watching her friend with something akin to worry. When he caught Aela looking, he shot her a questioning look, to which she responded with a shrug, holding in a laugh.

“You gonna live?” she asked, smirking. Once she finally recovered, Sybil stood, bottle in hand.

“Aela, if you need me, I will be downstairs. In a bed, sleeping, and trying not to think about what you’ve said. Goodnight,” she huffed. She heard the woman laugh as she walked away. She could feel Vilkas’ eyes on her again.

“Goodnight, Sybil.”

************************************************************************************************

Sybil layed in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Torvar, who was in the bed across form hers, was obnoxiously snoring, keeping her from sleeping.

Even though she had said that she wouldn’t think about them, Aela’s words flew around in her mind. She hated to hear how much Vilkas was hurting, and wondered what it was that she was doing to apparently help. She certainly couldn’t think of anything.

Then, she began wondering what it would be like to be with him, what it would be like to be loved.

The children loved her, at least she hoped they did. But she had never been able to feel romantic love. She’d never really cared for relationships, never really had the time. There were suitors, most being violent drunkards that couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. She had always either ignored them or broke their noses.

But Vilkas didn’t seem like the kind of person to treat someone like a one-and-done whore.

She sighed, knowing that Aela was wrong. He wasn’t interested in her at all. She was just a friend to him, and nothing would ever come of these pointless hopes.

Sybil took another drink of her mead, the warmth increasing her weariness. Torvar’s snoring had quietened to a bearable volume, and she began to doze. She absently realized she was still holding her drink, her hand hanging off the bed, as she drifted into sleep, the snoring mercifully fading with her consciousness.

************************************************************************************************

_Screaming. Howling. Skin tearing and bones snapping._

_That was all she could hear in the blackness. She had had this nightmare several times of the past few weeks. Ever since she’d had a rude awakening to a terrifying secret._

_Every one became more lucid than the last._

_Soon, the scene came to life. She wasn’t able to close her eyes, was forced to watch the horrifying event unfold. It was always the same. Bandits being torn limb from limb and being thrown around, painting the road and surrounding trees crimson._

_But something was different this time. When he was finished shredding the screeching bandits, Vilkas just stood there instead of prowling towards her. Then, he abruptly turned, and when she looked in the same direction, her heart stopped._

_Corliss and Calum were standing in the middle of the road, the young boy clinging to his transfixed sister’s skirts. Vilkas was hunched on all fours, growling menacingly and stalking towards the two children._

_She wanted to yell for them to run, somehow get Vilkas’ attention away from her kids, but her mouth was sewn shut and her feet were rooted to the spot._

_She watched in silent horror as he lunged at them, listened as they cried for help she could not offer._

_When he finished mauling them, his head snapped towards her. He didn’t hesitate to pounce on her. The sound of her head smacking against the stone road was replaced by glass shattering._

 

************************************************************************************************

**_Middas, 2 nd day of Last Seed, 4E 201 (About 6 A.M.)_ **

 

Sybil shot up, breathing heavily. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and her heart raced.

She heard Torvar grunt and roll over in his bed, the snoring immediately beginning again.

Looking around, she found that the other two beds were empty. Across the hall in the other room, she noticed the Companions’ newest recruit, a guy no older than twenty, staring at her as if she was insane before he walked out of the room, casting another wary glance at her from the hall.

Her eyes searched for what had broken while her brain continuously replayed the horrifying nightmare. The mead bottle from the night before was lying shattered beside her bed, the floor noticeably wet.

Not wanting to give Tilma any more work than she already had, Sybil pushed out of bed to find a broom. Eventually finding one, she set to cleaning up the mess while attempting to calm her racing mind. Once she was finished, she sat on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes and trying to convince herself that the kids were safe and sound. But she couldn’t help feeling anxious. She wanted to see them, needed to know that they were okay.

“Sybil?”

She jumped at the sound of Kodlak’s voice. She looked up at him, seeing concern in his aged eyes. The young man was standing behind him, watching with curiosity.

“Marco says something was wrong with you. Are you alright?”

She faked a smile. _No, I am not alright…_ “Yes, yes. I’m fine. I just had a nightmare is all. Nothing big.”

The harbinger nodded and turned to Marco. “You may go to breakfast now. Thank you for telling me.”

He nodded, and, with another glance in her direction, he walked off.

Kodlak turned back to her. “Are you certain you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m certain. You didn’t have to come check on me, but thank you.” She briefly wondered if he could tell that she’d been crying in her sleep.

The elder nodded and began to walk away when she spoke up again.

“Kodlak, please wait.” He raised an eyebrow at her as she stood. “I want to let you know that I’ll be in Riften for the next few days. I’ll be leaving very soon.”

“May I ask what has prompted this decision? Aela mentioned that you two were going to go deal with some bandits today.”

“I know, but I have a couple of people I need to check up on. I’m worried about them, and I’m absolutely no use when my mind’s off somewhere else.”

He nodded once again. “Okay. Stay safe on your journey.”

She smiled. “I will. I promise.” After he’d walked away, Sybil went to the mead hall. She crept out quietly, breathing a sigh of relief when she slipped through the door unnoticed.

The early morning air was chilly as she hurried out of the city and to the stables. She cursed when she saw that none of the stable hands were out yet. Not wanting to use the teleportation spell after what happened the previous time, she paid the wagon driver for the trip to Riften and hopped in the back.

The trip steadily got cooler and cooler, but she ignored, occasionally letting her flames wrap around her fingers to warm them. She had tuned out the driver for most of the ride until he pointed at something.

“Would you look at that. It looks like something’s on fire in the city,” he said. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten to Riften.

A plume of smoke was curling into the air. Flames licked at the left corner of the wall, and her heart dropped as she realized exactly what was burning.

She jumped out of the still moving carriage, and sprinted up to the city gates, ignoring the driver’s calls. There wasn’t a soul in sight at the stables.

She busted through the gates, getting choked by the smell of smoke. She looked down the narrow alleyway leading to her house. Sure enough, the property was ablaze, completely engulfed in white hot flames.

_No!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The next chapter will be up soon!


	21. The Worst Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I wasn't going to leave you guys hanging on that cliff for too long!

**_Morndas, 24 th day of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 (About 3 A.M.)_ **

 

Sybil stumbled through the Rift’s wilderness, exhaustion weighing heavily on her body. She had walked all the way from Sky Haven temple in the Reach, which was a really stupid idea. _Should’ve just gotten a carriage in Markarth…_

She thought she would never get home when she finally reached the steps leading to her back porch. She nearly lost her footing on the top step and cursed when her foot hit a chair. _I really have to get some torches put out here…_

As she walked through the door, she saw that the hearth was dark, and only a few candles were flickering in the kitchen. She’d always liked to listen to the fire crackling as she went to sleep, but she was frankly just too damned tired to get one going.

She made her way over to her bed as quietly as she could but couldn’t help herself from falling into it. She only hoped that she wouldn’t alert Lydia. She didn’t have enough energy to change into a nightgown, so she just curled up in the center of the bed, letting herself be dragged off into the deepest sleep of her life.

************************************************************************************************

“Mommy?

Sybil slowly opened her eyes, every muscle in her body sore beyond belief. She heard rain pounding the roof and saw a blond little boy at the edge of her bed. He was just barely taller than the bed, so all he could see were his little hand on the edge, his light-blond hair, and his big, hazel eyes. “Mommy, you ‘wake?”

She smiled and sat up slowly, although every muscled protested the movement. “Yeah, sweetie. I’m awake.” He grinned up at her. “Do you need something?”

“Storm is scary. Hold me?” Her heat melted as when he reached up, his little hands grabbing the air.

“Of course, sweetheart.” She looked down at her robes and the comforter. Both were dirty; the blanket had several smudges of dirt and probably dried blood that had rubbed of her robes. Usually, she’d never let them get to this condition, but it had been pretty difficult to avoid on the long trip she’d made with Delphine and Esbern. “But first, we have to change these blankets. You run downstairs and grab one out of the cupboard for me, please.” He nodded eagerly.

She stood, groaning. She quickly pulled the blue comforter off, and dropped it in the corner beside her wardrobe. Since Calum was still downstairs, she began to deftly remove her robes. Once they were all of, she got a long, white nightgown from the wardrobe and slipped it over her head.

She hurriedly brushed her hair, tying it up in a ponytail with her blue ribbon.

Calum rounded the corner, a beige blanket the was bigger than him, even folded, in his arms.

She thanked him as she took it from his arms and spread it out over the bed. Once it was folded back a bit, she grinned down at him. Sybil swooped him up in her arms, making him giggle with tickling kisses.

She playfully tossed him onto the bed and crawled in next to him. A crack of thunder made him jump and cling to her as she settled them both beneath the warm blankets.

“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s just a little thunder,” she soothed, holding him close to her. She looked down at the child, smiling. “Was your sister still sleeping, Calum?”

He nodded. “She was really sleepy last night. Miss Lydia let us stay up past our bedtime a whole two hours; she said that we may get to see you when you came in, but we couldn’t stay awake.”

She chuckled softly, thankful that Lydia had tried to let her see them. According to her housecarl, Corliss had been having horrible nightmares and still wouldn’t open up to anyone. Whenever Lydia would try to get her to go outside, she’d refuse and shut down. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the girl was going through.

Sybil just had to hope that she would be more willing to talk as time went on.

She pressed a soft kiss to the already dozing boy’s head. “I love you, Calum,” she whispered.

“I love you, too, mommy.”

She listened wearily to the rain. The steady sound lulled her into another deep, dreamless sleep.

 

************************************************************************************************

**_Tirdas, 2 nd day of Last Seed, 4E 201_ **

 

Sybil dashed down the hot alleyway. She had every intention of getting into that house, burning or not. She had to save the children. She couldn’t lose them.

She had passed the corner of the boarding house, being hit heat by the full heat of the flames but not really feeling it. People were throwing buckets of water on the engulfed building but failed extinguish any of the flames.

Someone shot out of the shadows, and she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. She was pulled against the captor’s chest as she struggled to get away.

“No! Let me go! I have to help them!” she shouted, thrashing against the unmoving arm.

“Lass, you’d have to be insane to go in there! That’s suicide,” Brynjolf stressed.

“I don’t care! I have to save them! I have to save the kids!” Realizing that his grip wouldn’t budge no matter what she tried, she stopped struggling and slumped over. “I promised them that they’d be safe…”

Her head shot back up when she heard wood cracking and groaning. The roof was buckling, and it caved in with the next few seconds. The left wall began to bow and collapsed onto the already decimated garden.

Sybil’s legs gave out, surprising Brynjolf. She was completely limp; he was forced to sink to the ground with her. She held tightly to the sleeve of his fine clothes; it was the outfit he always wore when he went into the city. She curled up like a small child, clutching even tighter at his arm. She distantly realized that people were still trying to wash away the flames.

Then, it felt as if a damn broke. She sobbed uncontrollably. _I’ve lost them… I failed them…_

Brynjolf continued to hold her, knowing better to try to say anything. She didn’t know how long she had cried, but when she looked up, she could see through her tears that the flames were almost under control.

She wondered what would be left, wondered if there’d even be anything left to bury. _I’m going to have to bury them…_

“Mommy!” Her head snapped to the left, and she hoped she hadn’t just imagined the sound of sweet, little Calum’s voice. The streets were darkened by the smoke, but she could make out a small figure running across the bridge. Bryn released her as the little boy ran into Sybil’s open arms. She held onto him tightly, sobbing and not being able to believe he was real. After a few seconds, she looked up.

Corliss and Lydia were standing there watching her hold the young boy. Corliss was looking conflicted. Lydia laid a hand on the young girl’s shoulder and nodded encouragingly. Then, Corliss did something Sybil would’ve never expected: she knelt down and hugged her and Calum. Sybil cried even harder than she had before, wrapping on arm around the girl.

“By the nine! I thought you two were dead,” she sobbed. She looked up at Lydia. “Where were you all?”

“Maramal came to get us earlier. He said there were some people lurking around the house, and that it would be best to stay at the temple until they had gone. I had tried to stay at the house and just let the children go, but he wasn’t having it.”

Sybil nodded slowly and looked to Bryn. “Did anyone in the Guild see them too?” She made sure to keep her voice low, although she doubted that anyone could hear them over the still crackling fire. Hell, it seemed as if nobody had realized that she was the one who had been nearly executed a few weeks ago, so if that couldn’t grab their attention, nothing else would.

He nodded, crouching next to her. “Sapphire saw them going into your house and came to tell me. She said that they had the symbol of the Bloodlust clan engraved on their armour. When I got up here, your house was already on fire. They must’ve used flammable oil because it was engulfed within minutes.”

“I should’ve just given them the damn dagger,” she whispered, staring out at Skyrim’s wilds through the now gaping hole in the city wall. She heard Brynjolf sigh.

“This is not your fault, lass.” She was about to argue, but Lydia promptly cut her off with a question.

“What will we do now?”

“Brynjolf, I want you to thank Maramal for me. I can’t exactly go waltzing through the streets right now,” she said, waiting for his nod before continuing. “With that settled, I suppose we’ll go to Whiterun. I bought a house there. We’ll just have to get the kids’ rooms set up.” She looked back to the children. She was still reeling from the thought of almost losing them. “The house may be smaller, but I’ll be able to be around more. It’s safe to play all you want there, and you can make friends with the other children. That sound good to you guys?”

They both nodded. Sybil stood, bring Calum up on her hip and offering Corliss her hand.

Sybil looked to the mess of ash and embers that used to be her house. She knew nothing could’ve survived and didn’t have the time to check either way. The top floor had collapsed into the basement, and the garden was buried beneath a still glowing wall.

She turned to Brynjolf. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you for stopping me from running in. You were right, it would’ve been suicide.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Just be careful, lass. I fear that they will still be hunting you.

“I know. I’ll find some way to deal with them. I have to.”

After they all told Bryn goodbye, the four of them walked out of Riften, Sybil luckily still going unnoticed. She quickly paid for the carriage ride back to Whiterun, and held Calum in her lap and Corliss against her side throughout the entirety of the journey.

_On the bright side, I’ll be back to Jorrvaskr sooner than expected…_


	22. Settling Back In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start off by saying that it really feels good to be back! I also want to sincerely apologize for leaving you guys hanging for so long.
> 
> I just hit a huge wall with the story, and nothing would help. Now, admittedly, this wall wasn't as big as the one I've crashed into with my other story, I Wouldn't Mind. (I promise I'll try to continue it for anyone who's reading it.) The only way for me to get back to this story was to rework my story line, adding in details and other things that I absolutely needed to clear up before continuing. Also, believe it or not, over the last two to three weeks, I've gotten a shit ton of writing done. However, it was on a later part of the story.
> 
> I'm glad to say, though, that my break is coming up, so hopefully, I'll be able to update a little more often.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the cute, fluffy chapter!

**_Middas, 2 nd day of Last Seed, 4E 201 (About 4 P.M.)_ **

 

The last thing Vilkas had expected Sybil to do was walk into his room and break down crying seconds later. Especially since she had supposedly left town early that morning. He’d rushed to her side, asking her what was wrong, but all she would say was, “I almost lost them…”

He carefully guided her to sit in one of the chairs, crouching down in front of her and trying to calm her. It took several minutes for her to relax enough to look up at him. Her eyes were bright, and her face was red.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she hurriedly wiped her tears away. “I swear I’ve cried more in the past month than I have in my entire life.”

“It’s completely understandable, Sybil. Anyone can see how stressed you are. Now, what happened?” he asked gently.

She explained what had happened to her house in Riften and how she had thought the children were still inside. “But they weren’t, thank the divines. I just… Gods, Vilkas, I’ve lost so many people, I couldn’t take the thought of losing them,” she said, his heart wrenching at her words. She pressed her lips into a thin line, obviously struggling to keep herself from crying again.

“It’s okay… It’s okay,” he soothed quietly. “Where are the children now?”

“They’re at Breezehome with Lydia. I bought the house a couple weeks ago, but I haven’t had the time to get it completely furnished. I’m gonna have to get their room set up tonight,” she said her last sentence mostly to herself, as if she was going over a list in her head.

“Will you need any help?” he asked, hoping for a way to relieve some of her stress.

“No, no, no. I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve probably got a million more important things to do.” Her words were rushed and dismissive.

He shook his head. “I’ve got nothing to do tonight. No jobs and no one to train since Ria’s on a job. Plus, the new kid has yet to pick a trainer. I’ll be glad to help you.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Her mind appeared to begin wandering, but after a moment, she spoke again, her tone sounding something akin to guilty. “Do you…do you know what I thought when the, uh, the roof collapsed?”

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “I thought that what everyone says about people like me must be true. I bring death everywhere I go,” she sneered, shaking her head a little.

“ _No._ No, Sybil. You… That’s not true at all,” he tried to convince. “The kids are still alive, I’m still alive. Hell, Brynjolf is still alive, and he’s been around you for years.” When he said that, a dark look crossed her face. It was an ashamed expression that he knew said, _Just give it time._

He recognized it because it had been what he began to feel as the curse got worse.

************************************************************************************************

**_(Two hours later)_ **

 

“Where do you want this, Syb?” Vilkas asked, gesturing to the dresser momentarily sitting haphazardly in the kitchen. She looked up at him, but it seemed to take her a second to process his question. He could tell that her mind had been wandering again.

“Um, there’s an empty space against the wall in their room. It should fit there,” she said after a moment. As he moved the dresser, he noticed her frantically searching through an end table. When he emerged back from the room, she was standing in front of the hearth looking around and scratching her head, some stands of hair coming loose from her ponytail.

The slightly-faded blue dress she had changed into lazily swished around her ankles as she moved. It had white sleeves with floral print on it, and she had an apron with the same print tied around her waist. It was rather jarring to see her in normal clothes rather than her mage robes, which she had said smelled of ash and needed a washing. But even in the simple outfit, he thought she looked beautiful.

“What’re you looking for?” he asked, making her jump a bit. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Um, a doll. My sister had made it for me when we were little. I want to give it to Corliss when they get back,” she explained. Sybil had let the two children go to the market with Lydia to get some things since they’d lost most of their stuff in the fire. “I don’t know why, but I could’ve sworn I had left it here somewhere,” she murmured as she began scanning the room again. He noted her continuously tapping foot.

“Are you sure you haven’t forgotten it in the Void?” Vilkas joked, getting an actual laugh out of her.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t, but that has happened before. If I try to conjure something when I’m not focused, I could end up with a long-lost broom or a candelabra I don’t even remember having. Sometimes I’ll be searching for days for something I already have.” She thought for another moment. “Maybe it’s upstairs,” she said as she jogged up the steps, leaving him alone for the moment. He could hear her hurried footsteps above him.

Usually, he’d never notice something as small as her footsteps, but considering she was always very careful about keeping quiet, it kind of worried him. She’d been full of nervous energy over the past two hours, in a never-ending rush. He’d noticed that she was constantly looking over her shoulder, staying high-strung and super aware. She had also been very reluctant about letting the children go to the market, but seeing as they would be with Lydia, she had relented.

Sybil was worried, scared. And he knew why.

“Found it!” she announced, showing him the doll while still standing on the stairs. Vilkas couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. The stuffed doll was a little worn with age, but it had obviously been well taken care of. It had blonde hair and wore a dress made of red cloth. Its eyes had been stitched to look like they were closed, a small smile on its face. It appeared as if it was pleasantly dreaming.

“It’s very well-made,” he commented. She looked down at it, gently cradling it in her hands. A warm smile spread across her face.

“Yeah. Raina was always amazing at making all sorts of things. She tried to teach me how to sew, which was an absolute failure, so then she wanted to teach me how to knit. But, as I told you, I’m horrible at knitting,” she said softly. Then sadness began to show in her eyes. “She gave me this the day she left…”

She had spoken the sentence so quietly that he just barely made it out. He realized that she was actually standing still at the moment; she wasn’t constantly moving. _Might as well ask her while she’s calm…_

“Sybil, are you worried about the bandits finding you again?” he finally asked. She went rigid; she chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment.

Eventually, she sighed, sitting on one of the steps. She was still holding the doll carefully. “Guess I can’t hide it from you, huh? Yes, I am worried. I don’t want to put the kids in danger again, Vilkas.”

“Well, you’re going to be staying here now, right?” She nodded. “Then, they’re already a lot safer because they have you here to protect them.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll be able to keep a closer eye on what’s going on. But what am I supposed to do when I have to go out of town? I’m gonna need to leave for High Hrothgar in a few days, but I’ll be worried sick about them.”

“They have Lydia and the entirety of Jorrvaskr to watch over them,” he deadpanned. “They’ll be okay.”

She gave a long sigh. “I know that, I really do. It’s just…”

“Just what, Syb?” he gently prompted after she went quiet for a moment.

“I’ve dragged them into this horrible ordeal, put their lives at stake. Maybe it would’ve been better for them if I had left them at the orphanage-”

“Don’t you dare say that.” Her head snapped up at the severity of his tone. “You and I, along with _everyone_ in Skyrim, knows what happened in that orphanage, at least while that Grelod bitch ran the place. You leaving them there would have basically been a death sentence. They are way better off with you, targeted or not.”

She stared at him silently for a moment. “You’re right,” she whispered. “But there is going to come a day that they’ll have to leave, Vilkas.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Their father, Vilkas. I was so focused on Liana that I had forgotten to tell you what that letter said. Apparently, General Tullius is the father of those two children. I don’t know how, and I honestly don’t want to know. But I’m gonna have to talk to Corliss about it sooner or later. And seeing how everyone wants me dead, I’ll have to have that talk sooner rather than later.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Even if she doesn’t want to go find him, I’ll still be worried about it. If he ever found out, Tullius has the power to take them away from me.”

“But why would he?”  She watched him curiously, confused by his question. “He has no reason. He’s the general of the Imperial forces. From what I’ve seen and heard of him, he’s not the kind of person to want children. He’d just view them as liabilities.”

She nodded, but then a shadow of doubt crossed her face. “What if he sends another assassin?”

“No one else knows about their father, right?”

“Lydia does.”

“Well, she shouldn’t have any reason to tell others. As long as we keep it under wraps, no one should be able to know who their father is. There’s no way he could send people after them if he doesn’t know where they are. Hell, I doubt he even knows what the kids look like, so there’s no real reason to worry, Syb,” he reassured. She smiled at him, looking as if she was about to say something, but was interrupted by the door swinging open and Calum running in.

Vilkas noticed the panic-stricken look that flashed across Sybil’s face, but it was quickly replaced with a bright smile as she stood and opened her arms to the young boy. He practically jumped into her arms, giggling uncontrollably. Once she set him back down, she turned to Vilkas and mouthed a quick “Thank you.”

Lydia walked through the door, carrying a basket full of fruits, vegetables, and bread. Corliss followed soon after, the girl appearing to be in a happy mood for the time being. According to both Lydia and Sybil, it was a rare occurrence.

His heart went out to the poor girl. He knew from experience how hard it was to lose a parent at such a young age, especially when you had a sibling to look after.

He felt a light tug on his armour, and looked down to find a small blond boy staring up at him. He crouched down so that he was almost eye-level with the child. “Yes?”

“Guess what I did,” Calum said, a grin spreading across his face.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What’d you do?”

“I ran all the way home, and I didn’t fall!” he announced proudly. His big, hazel eyes shone brightly.

Vilkas chuckled. “You did now? Well, that’s awesome,” he said, smiling wider as the child seemed to glow at the praise.

“I know it is!” Vilkas laughed again, ruffling the little boy’s hair as he stood. Calum ran off to his sister, beginning an enthusiastic tale of when he saw a cow that was a bazillion times bigger than him.

“So, why didn’t you get any meat?” Vilkas turned at the sound of Sybil’s voice; she and Lydia were putting food away in the cupboard. He noticed that she had carefully tucked the treasured doll into her pocket.

Her housecarl looked a little apologetic. “I wasn’t sure if you liked any meat or not.”

“Oh, trust me, honey. I did not fight my way to the top of the food chain just to be a vegetarian,” Sybil jokes, the two women laughing. Lydia began to say that she’d go get some, but Sybil just waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve gotta run out in a minute anyway, so I’ll get some. Then, we’ll start on supper.”

************************************************************************************************

“Will you come with me?” Sybil asked, looking over at Vilkas. They strolled through the streets of Whiterun, which were still bustling with activity. The pair were coming upon the market. Vilkas had volunteered to go with her to buy a few things Lydia hadn’t. “Back to High Hrothgar, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’d love to. When will we be leaving?” His eyes had a honey colour when the sunset’s light hit them just right, and she was completely entranced by them, and they were also watching her expectantly so _I’d better hurry up and answer._

She cleared her throat quickly. “It’ll be a few days. I’m gonna be spending a lot of time with the kids, which means I’m probably not going to be taking any more jobs for the time being,” she explained. She saw him nod as they approached the meat merchant.

Vilkas waited patiently as she got what she needed, loving the kind, easy smile that played across her lips. He’d gotten so lost in her beauty, in the way she seemed to shine in the twilight, that he was startled to find her right in front of him, an eyebrow cocked.

“So?” she asked.

“So?” he replied, confusion in his tone.

She gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Geez, Dickhead, do you ever listen? I asked you if you’d liked to stay for dinner. I’m sure the kids would love it. And besides, I gotta thank you for your help somehow.”

“I’d be happy to stay,” he said. After a second, a teasing thought popped into his head. “But tell me, is your cooking as bad as your knitting?”

She playfully glared up at him. “No, it is not. I actually think I’m a very good cook. And if you don’t like it, you can just make something yourself. Aela’s told me that your cooking can put the Gourmet to shame. That true?”

He huffed a laugh as they began walking back. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that, but, hell, I’ll take the compliment. But either way, I don’t think you’re supposed to treat a guest like that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t a guest,” she stated, matter-of-fact. He raised a curious, amused brow at her. “You’re family.”

Her words stopped him in his tracks. She realized after a moment and stopped, too, tilting her head to the side a bit as she watched him. All he could do was stare at her, dumbstruck. _Family?_

Her words felt so odd, so different. They ignited something that he'd never felt before. He’d always had the Companions and his brother, a family that would always back him up. But it felt different coming from her, a different kind of family.

“Yeah, family,” she responded, nodding slowly. “Why do you sound so skeptical?”

“Wait, I said that out loud?”

“Um, yeah?” She looked at him oddly. “Are you alright, Vilkas?”

“Yeah, yeah. But why do you consider me family?” He asked, both curious and slightly confused.

“Oh, _come on._ You've saved my life far too many times for me not to consider you family. And, you really don't judge me for what I was born as; I need people like that around me,” she spoke softly. People continued to bustle past the pair. “Plus, you're really good with the kids, and that always helps.” She gave a small smile.

He realised he'd been taking steps closer to her, and he was almost right up on her when he’d stopped. He returned the smile. “I could almost say the exact same thing to you.”

Vilkas felt a forceful shove on his back that sent him flying forward, right into Sybil. She made an alarmed sound as they both went down, the basket flying to the side; he subconsciously made sure to keep his weight off her. They ended up in quite the compromising position, her sprawled on her back with her hair fanned out on the stone, and him looming over her with both hands on either side of her head.

_“Just kiss already, lovebirds!”_ the assailant shouted. _You're fucking joking…_ He looked up to see Aela and Skjor both cackling as they sauntered to the gates, apparently heading out on a job. _I'm gonna kill them!_

“Vilkas,” Sybil's hushed yet severe voice jerked his attention back; she was furiously blushing, and he kind of liked seeing her like that. And, if he was honest, he didn't really mind being over her, her skirts hiking up a little… Shit, he was doing it again. “People are staring. Get _off!_ ”

He rushed to stand, easily pulling her up with him. They both dusted themselves off, and Vilkas picked up the discarded basket, miraculously having kept all its contents.

“I am _so_ sorry about that,” he blurted out as he handed her the basket.

She sighed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. He noticed that she was still blushing and kept herself from looking him in the eyes. “It's not your fault; they're the ones that pushed you. But I'd really like to get home now because people are still staring,” she whispered, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him along to her door.

He left later that night, walking along the empty streets lit only by a few braziers. He smiled to himself, feeling happier than he had in a _very_ long time.


	23. Back to High Hrothgar

**_Sundas, 6 th day of Last Seed, 4E 201_ **

 

Vilkas heard the doors open but ignored them, continuing to eat his breakfast. He'd been going over a list of things he needed to do for that day when he felt someone lean against him. He startled and looked up, slightly alarmed to be met with Sybil's eyes, a playful look dancing in them. _This is gonna be good…_

“Could you possibly take on a new student?” she asked casually, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“Depends. Who would I be teaching?” he responded cautiously. _What is she up to?_

Sybil lightly jerked her head to the side, giving a pointed look. He shifted to see Corliss standing behind her a bit looking sheepish. Vilkas remembered Sybil saying that the child had recently stopped giving her the constant cold shoulder. He noticed the doll Sybil had given her sticking out of a pocket on her dress and had an odd feeling that had something to do with it.

“Oh, hello there,” he greeted kindly, smiling and getting one in return. He turned back to Sybil. “She wants to learn how to fight?”

Corliss answered for her. “Yes, I do. Very badly,” she said, her voice small but determined. He smiled slightly at her determination.

“Tell him why you want to learn,” Sybil said, placing an encouraging hand on the young girl's back and moving her to stand in front. Corliss smiled sheepishly again.

“I wanna learn to fight with a dagger so I can protect my little brother,” she said, a proud look on her face. Her want to protect was endearing, but then he realised what she had said.

“I'm so sorry, but I don't teach how to use daggers.” She looked crestfallen, and Vilkas felt his heart break with guilt. “But I can certainly try. Or maybe we could get Aela…” he trailed off as Sybil began vigorously shaking her head.

He raised an eyebrow. “Tell you later,” she mouthed.

“Yeah, I'll do my best to teach you, kiddo,” he said to Corliss, seeing her face light up. Sybil smiled gratefully at him before looking down at the little girl.

“Corliss, why don't you run on back to the house while I talk to Vilkas. I'll be right behind you,” the redhead said, smiling as the child nodded, thanked Vilkas, and hurried out of the mead hall.

He gave a sideways glance to Sybil, suddenly suspicious again. “So, you're okay with this?”

She turned back to him. “Yes, of course. I've learned that she's rather shy, so it'll be a good thing to get her out of the house, maybe help her with it. Just promise me you won't go super hard on her like you do to me.” Her eyes were serious, a protectiveness entering her tone.

“She’s just a kid, Sybil. I'm not that heartless, jeez,” he retorted in mock offense. “Why don't you want Aela teaching her?”

Sybil gave a tired laugh. “Do you realize how much of the time training would actually be Aela trying to extract every little bit of what's “happening” between us from Corliss?” He chuckled as she did little air quotes. _I suppose she does have a point._ “Gods, she wouldn't leave the poor kid alone about it.”

Vilkas smiled as she pulled out a chair and plopped down, suddenly seeming exhausted. “You okay?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“She has nightmares, Vilkas,” she stated, abnormally quiet. Once again, he found it odd how quickly her mood could change. “Every night.”

“Has she told you what they're about?” he asked, assuming they were still talking about Corliss.

She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath before continuing. “About her mom. That's all she'll say when I ask. Vilkas, I honestly think Corliss saw Liana die; she told me a little about that day, said that she and Calum were supposed to be heading to Riften but had forgotten something and turned back. After that though, she usually just shuts down. She saw _something_ , and I think she kept Calum from seeing it, too. I can't even begin to imagine what she's going through, and I don't know how to help.”

“Just keep doing what you're doing, Syb. Keep trying to get her to talk, just be gentle. And now she'll have an outlet with this training,” he explained, Sybil nodding along.

The door swung open behind them, causing them to look over and see Farkas walk in. Vilkas gave a nod of greeting. Farkas, who seemed to be in a foul mood, brightened a bit when he saw his brother. However, it shifted again when he noticed Sybil; Vilkas noted how his gaze lingered a bit too long before he quickly stormed off.

“Well, that was weird,” he said as he turned back to Sybil. She just shrugged it off, but something about the look in his eyes nagged at the back of his mind.

“Are you still coming to High Hrothgar with me? I'd like to leave tomorrow,” she stated suddenly, dragging his attention back to her.

“Of course. What time?”

“Dawn.”

***********************************************************************************************

**_Morndas, 7 th day of Last Seed, 4E 201_ **

 

Sybil woke slowly, not wanting to leave her warm bed. She still felt odd sleeping in it, kind of out of place. The one she had grown accustomed to was now a pile of ash in Riften; she had yet to be completely comfortable sleeping in her new room. It was just a little too cold at night, and drafty, too. It was also quite barren with just a double bed, a single nightstand, and an oak chest that was shoved up against the far wall.

The house was quiet, a stillness hanging in the cool air. It was the sleepy calm before the chaos of the day.

She rolled over after enjoying a moment of the quiet. Her muscles ached as they always did, and her nightgown had gotten twisted in the blankets as she had slept.

Sighing, Sybil slowly pulled herself up and worked the gown loose. A second after she had placed her feet on the floor, a few knocks on the front door broke the silence, making her jump.

Approaching footsteps drew her attention, and she looked to see Lydia standing in the open doorway in a faded roughspun outfit. Sybil realised that she had just woken as well.

“Were you expecting anyone?” the housecarl asked with a sleep-filled voice.

“Not as far as I know,” she answered, a yawn escaping her. “Just ignore it. Maybe they'll go away.”

Lydia hesitated. “What if it’s them?” she asked cautiously. Sybil assumed she was talking about the clan bandits.

She shook her head. “I honestly don't believe they're polite enough to knock.” The housecarl began to walk away. Sybil looked at the wall across from her bed and watched the bright sunlight stream through tiny cracks in the wall, making a mental note to get them fixed. She felt her eyes widen as she remembered; another knock came at the door. “Wait! I forgot! It's Vilkas; just let him on in, please. Tell him I'll be down in a moment.”

“Yes ma'am,” Lydia said, already heading down the stairs. Sybil jumped up, hurriedly digging her robes out of the chest. After shedding her long gown, she felt the cool air cause gooseflesh to spread across her skin.

As she tied the laces of her boots, she heard footsteps approaching again, these heavier than Lydia’s. Vilkas softly knocked on her door frame, drawing her attention. She gave an apologetic smile.

“I am _so_ sorry. I don't ever sleep so late; it was just a really late night between Corliss’ nightmares and-” Vilkas cut her off quickly.

“It's okay, Syb,” he said with a small smile. “You aren't the only one that overslept.” It took her a second to recognise exhaustion in his voice. She grinned when she saw that his hair was still a little mussed.

“You look good with bed head, Dickhead,” she quipped, Vilkas rolling his eyes and fruitlessly attempting to smooth his hair down.

He stopped when she stood, watching her carefully. “At least mine's not as bad as yours, Miss Rat’s Nest,” he retorted, smirking. She glared at him as she conjured her brush, hurriedly brushing through all the tangles in her blood red hair. “You look exhausted, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks for noticing,” she drawled. “What clued you in? Are there bags under my eyes?”

“No. Actually, it was the fact that you fastened that strap in the wrong place,” he said, motioning to her robes. She looked down and saw that he was right. “It's a rookie mistake that I don't think you would ever make unless you were extremely tired and couldn't think straight.”

“You should just become a detective. Always noticing shit that no one else ever would,” she muttered as she corrected the strap, a discomfort she hadn't noticed until then fading.

“We can wait another day, if you need to get some rest.” His words shocked her, causing her to cock an eyebrow at him.

“I look that bad, huh?”

He rolled his eyes. “You never look bad, Syb,” he said, the words apparently escaping before he noticed. His eyes went wide, and he rushed to correct. “I just mean that we shouldn't be doing something so important while you're exhausted. I don't want to risk you getting hurt.”

She shook her head. “No. We're leaving today. I'm fine.” He still didn't look convinced. “I promise, Dickhead,” she assured, already walking past him. “Come on. We'll get some breakfast before we leave.”

“You mean lunch?” he corrected, following her down the stairs.

“It's already _that_ late?!”

 

************************************************************************************************

**_(Two hours later)_ **

 

“Alright. We'll do it here,” Sybil said. The pair were standing on the edge of Ivarstead, preparing to teleport up to the monastery. Vilkas stood across from her as he had before, feeling uneasy like always. Sybil seemed to notice and gave a reassuring smile. “Just remember to stay calm; it only lasts a few seconds.”

“It lasted longer than a few seconds last time,” he contradicted. It seemed to take a moment for her to understand.

“Really? Well, that was most likely because I was pushing myself too much. But I'm fine this time, so it should pass pretty quickly.”

He nodded, trying to mask his nervousness. “Alright. Let's just hurry and do it.”

She said the incantation, and he kept himself calm by focusing on the glow of her eyes. The black wisps came and went quickly this time, revealing the gray, stone walls of High Hrothgar.

Sybil seemed to sway for a second but quickly straightened herself. He knew she saw the worry when she glanced at him. “Don't worry. It's been getting easier the more I do it; doesn't take as much out of me,” she assured. However, he still watched her closely, scared that she was going to collapse again.

“Dragonborn,” the aged voice came from above, drawing both of their attentions to the top of the stairs. Arngeir slowly descended towards them, giving a smile of greeting. “What brings you here today, my child?”

Sybil took a deep breath before speaking. “I want to learn the shout used to defeat Alduin.”

The elder looked taken aback. “How have you learned of that? Who have you been speaking to?” he demanded.

Vilkas noticed that she seemed to flinch from the scolding tone; she hesitated before responding. “It was recorded on Alduin’s Wall.”

“The Blades, of course! They've always meddled in matters they know nothing of. They seek to steer the dragonborn away from the path of wisdom,” he ranted. He and Sybil both stayed silent, letting him finish. “Have you learned nothing from us? Would you simply be a tool to be used by them, a puppet for their evil intentions?”

Sybil took a moment to speak; Vilkas was surprised by the elder’s harsh tone. “I'm not their puppet,” she said suddenly, a defensive tone in her voice. “I'm not going to let them use me.”

Arngeir gave a tired sigh, seemingly having aged ten years in the last thirty seconds. “No, no, of course not,” he said with a sad tone. “Forgive me, for I have been intemperate with you. But heed my warning - the Blades may say they serve the dragonborn, but they do not. They never have and they never will.”

“I’ll be cautious. You have my word. But can you teach me the shout?”

He shook his head. “No. I cannot teach it to you because I do not know it. It is called ‘Dragonrend,’ but its Words of Power are unknown to us. We do not regret this loss. That shout holds no place within the way of the voice.”

Vilkas saw Sybil’s brows draw together in confusion. “You say that like the shout is pure evil. Why?”

“Because it is. It’s creators were filled with a hatred of dragons, for they lived under the cruelty of Alduin’s Dragon Cult. Learning a shout means taking it into your very being, becoming the shout. If you learn and use this shout, you’ll be taking the evil into yourself, tainting your soul.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Vilkas looked to Sybil, practically seeing the gears working in her brain. Finally, she sighed. “Well, if that is what I must do, I’ll do it. But if the shout is lost, how can I defeat Alduin?”

“Paarthurnax, the leader of our order. He is the only one that can help you.”

“Paarthurnax,” she said quietly, as if she had remembered something. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

The Greybeard watched her curiously. “Perhaps, it is just a coincidence. Maybe you heard something similar to it in the past,” he said, although he didn’t sound very convinced at all. “Come now. Although you still are not ready, the Blades have given you a question only Paarthurnax can answer.” He started towards the stairs, Sybil and Vilkas in tow.

“Paarthurnax, Paarthurnax, Paarthurnax,” he heard her whisper, as if repeating the name would somehow jog her memory.

“You okay, Syb?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It just sounds so damn familiar; I swear I’ve heard that name before.” They both quieted when the other three Greybeards joined them, the group of six all walking to the courtyard.

The mountain air was frigid, the harsh wind unforgiving; he chuckled at the way Sybil’s thick hair blew back in her face. She heard him a chilling glare, half-hidden by the red locks, but chilling regardless.

The courtyard was covered in at least a foot of snow. It was large, open. The midafternoon sun was hidden behind the thick, fluffy clouds that seemed to always hang around the Throat of the World. They approached a large, archaic-looking gate, with an unnatural wall of wind behind it.

“I’m not an expert, but that doesn’t look exactly normal to me,” he whispered to Sybil, getting a nod in return.

“The path to Paarthurnax lies beyond this gate. We will teach you a shout to open the way, as a final gift to you, Dragonborn.” The four Greybeards spread out, forming a circle around the pair; Arngeir stood across from them, aged robes tugged on by the winds. “Lok… Vah… Koor…”

The ground shimmered as the Words of Power were etched into the stone. The glowing continued, blue, purple, and gold mist floating up off the words of an ancient language. After a still moment, the mists gravitated towards Sybil, enveloping her and leaving her literally glowing. A few seconds passed before the glowing died down, and she looked herself over.

“That’s always going to feel really weird,” Sybil muttered.

“Use this gift well, Dragonborn. Clear Skies will open the path to Paarthurnax. However, it will only last for so long. The way is perilous. Be cautious.” He gestured for them to come forward, right in front of the gateway. “Clear the way.”

Sybil stood before the gate silently, seeming tiny in comparison. After just a second of hesitation, she let loose the Shout, the wall of wind instantly dissipating. Arngeir once again cautioned her, and she motioned for Vilkas to follow as she began the trek to the peak of the mountain.

A word never passed between them as the trudged through the deep, undisturbed snow, Shouts occasionally filling the air as Sybil continued to clear their path. Several times, he thought he saw shadows moving through the thick fogs left behind after Sybil cleared the wind. Although he managed to convince himself that it was nothing, just a trick of the light, he kept his guard up, staying close to Sybil.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last wall of wind was cleared, leaving open sky in its wake. He noticed Sybil was leaning against a large boulder, seemingly winded. He soon realised that it was rather difficult for him to catch his breath, too, and figured that it was the altitude getting to her.

“You alright?” he huffed once he’d mostly adjusted. She was still propped against the boulder, one hand clutching her side.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I just… All that shouting exhausted me, and now I can barely breathe…” She waved him off as he moved a bit closer to her. “I'm _fine._ Just gimme a minute.”

Doing as she said, he began looking around, taking in the Throat of the World. A large, curved wall stood far from them, a good chunk of it taken off the top. Even from that distance, Vilkas could tell that it was intricately carved and had faded words inscribed on it. In his peripheral vision, he saw that Sybil had mostly recovered. She really got his attention when she cocked her head to the side, as if she was hearing something. The look on his face made his stomach drop; it was the same one she wore when she'd heard dragon wings in the distance.

“Vilkas,” she said quietly, a look of horror dawning, “I know where I recognised Paarthurnax’s name from. It was in a book I read. About dragons.”


	24. Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!! As a Christmas gift, You guys are getting a 10000 word chapter!! 10000 words! Isn't it wonderful? So grab the popcorn, or any other snack of your choice, and please enjoy!!
> 
> Just a few side notes: 1.) There is a bit of a torture scene at the very end of the chapter, so just skip it if stuff like that bothers you. It's not too hardcore, but still. 2.) Sybil's tent is the large fur tent from the Frostfall mod. 3.) I'm doing just a bit of diverging from the canon storyline. Nothing too damaging, I promise.

**_Sundas, 6 th day of Last Seed, 4E 201_ **

****

“Are you saying Paarthurnax is a dragon?” Vilkas asked, wondering why the hell the Greybeards had forgotten to mention that tidbit of information.

“Yes,” she answered, nodding. “And he's getting closer; I can hear him.”

The two subconsciously moved closer together, both in a defensive stance. They had no idea when he was going to fly up through the cloud layer, which put them even more on edge. Vilkas assumed that the dragon wasn't hostile, considering the Greybeards had sent the Dragonborn of all people to see him, but he wasn't really one for taking chances. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it in a heartbeat, and he could see flames in Sybil's hands.

Finally, after several tense moments, an enormous, dark figure burst through the clouds, disturbing their smoothness. It flew high above them, its shadow looming over them. After it circled the peak a few times, it came to land right in front if the pair, seemingly shaking the whole mountain. It reared its head ominously, dark eyes solely trained on the redhead to his side.

Vilkas had started to move to stand protectively in front of her, but he was stopped when she placed a hand on his arm. He turned to her to be met with relieved looking eyes.

“It's okay. He’s not going to hurt us. If he was, he'd have done it by now,” she said simply, seeming rather confident in her conclusion. However, just the thought of Paarthurnax’s looming size made him keep his guard up, though he did step aside.

“She speaks true. I will not hurt either of you,” the dragon spoke, his voice rough and deep. Although it wasn't the first time he'd heard it, a dragon speaking was still unsettling to him. “Drem Yo Lok. Greetings, wuduniik. I am Paarthurnax. Who are you? What brings you to my strummah...my mountain?”

“I believe you already know who I am.” Vilkas looked over to see Sybil's expression to be one of stone, giving away nothing. _She could be quaking inside and no one would ever know._ He found it almost sad that she was so practiced in the art of hiding her expressions.

He had seen it many times when she talked to people she wasn't really close to. She'd put up a wall, not wanting to give away too much. The only time she would show a lot of emotion to someone unknown to her was when she was pretending, acting to fill a role.

“That is true, Dovahkiin. Forgive me. It has been long since I last tinvaak with a stranger. I had wanted to prolong our speech. But, yes, I do know who you are, Sibylline.” Vilkas could sense Sybil suddenly tense up. He supposed she had thought the dragon had known _what_ she was, not exactly _who._

“How do you know my name?” She asked suddenly, the tiniest crack appearing in her façade.

“I have been watching over you from afar your entire life, for I could sense you held a Dovah’s soul. It was my duty to observe you throughout your life, and, in some cases, to protect you,” he explained.

“How have _you_ been watching over me or protecting me?” She asked, a defensiveness entering her voice. “I'm pretty sure I would've notice a _giant dragon_ hanging around.” _Syb, is this really the time for sarcasm?_

“I am sure you have been told about the dov’s telepathic connection. That connection comes from our very souls; the pain or fear one dovah feels, is the same pain or fear the rest of us feel. We do not necessarily have to be around to know exactly what is happening; many of the strongest thoughts are conveyed through the bond. And as to how I have protected you from afar, strength and power can also travel along the bond. So, when there have been instances where you were close to death or near giving up, I gave you the strength to ensure that did not happen.”

“Prove it. Prove it to me, and I'll believe you.” Sybil had fixed the crack in the mask.

The dragon looked thoughtful for a moment, seemingly trying to make a decision. “As a child, you had a very frail constitution. Even now, there are times when it fails you. At the age of six, you began another battle with pneumonia, the third bout that year. Your father denied you the chance to see a doctor, and your sister could do nothing to contest him. Your sister believed you were too weak to survive it without medicines, and she would have been proven correct if I had not intervened. In your hour of death, I offered you the strength to pull through the sickness. I believe your sister spoke of your “miraculous” recovery for many months afterwards.”

Vilkas listened intently to the dragon's story, as was Sybil. “Just gonna say, your father sounds like an absolute dick, Syb.” When he glanced at her, she seemed to be weighing her choices. Her lips twitched when she heard him, just barely forming the shadow of a bitter sneer.

“You could say that again,” she muttered.

“Do you believe me, Dovahkiin?”

After a moment of conflicted expressions, she spoke. “Not many people knew of my father's cruelty. Or of how often I was sick. I don't see any way that you could know other than what you've told me. I suppose I don't really have much of a choice _but_ to believe you.”

“Now, Sibylline, there is always a choice.”

She gave a tired sigh. “Either way, I need to ask something of you. I must learn the Dragonrend Shout. Can you teach me?”

“Drem. Patience. There are formalities we have yet neglected to address at the first meeting of two of the dov. By long tradition, the elder speaks first. Hear my Thu’um, feel it in your bones. Match it, if you are Dovahkiin.”

Vilkas wisely moved out of the way before Paarthurnax performed his shout. If he had remained where he'd been, he would have been a pile of ash. When the fire enveloped her, he felt a moment of panic, even though she had told him that she was impervious to fire. Yet when the fire cleared, Sybil stood there unharmed.

While Sybil was taught the Shout that had just been used on her, Vilkas sat on one of the shorter boulders. He watched the light begin to change the crystalline snow to a deep orange and a light pink. He hadn't realised the sun had already started to set.

_Maybe Paarthurnax wouldn't mind if we camped up here for the night. It would be too treacherous to go down the mountain in the dark, especially with that unnatural wind storm._

“Vilkas, move!”

Instinctively, he rolled to the left, just barely dodging a column of fire that obliterated his temporary seat.

“What the hell, Sybil?!” he shouted, glaring at her. His glare softened when he saw her standing with her hands over her mouth, a sincerely apologetic look in her eyes.

Paarthurnax made a throaty noise, which Vilkas guessed was the dragon equivalent of a laugh. “Your Thu’um is strong and wild, Dovahkiin. You must be careful to control it. Do not fret, though; you will learn how soon.”

“I am so sorry! I didn't mean to do that, I swear!” Sybil apologised profusely.

Vilkas waved her off. “It's fine. I'll just sit over here, completely out of the way so there is absolutely no chance of you turning me into a pile of ash. You two carry on,” he said as he trudged over to another rock, making sure there was no way for Sybil to blow him off the mountain. He realised with a laugh that she'd probably do it in a heartbeat if he ever pissed her off.

Vilkas waited a long while as they talked, the wind keeping him from hearing most of their words. Darkness fell, but he was surprised to find that he could still see almost perfectly. The peak seemed to have its own glow, and the aurora above them cast brilliant greens and purples across the snow. He had apparently nodded off after some time because one moment he was watching the lights, and the next, Sybil was standing in front of him saying something.

“What?” he muttered through a yawn. He sat up and stretched, looking around. He noticed the dragon's absence immediately. “Where’s Paarthurnax?”

“He left just a minute ago. He likes to take midnight flights, apparently. He said it was okay if we set up camp for the night, too. So, come on, Sleepyhead, get up and help me.”

He glared up at her. “I think I'd prefer Dickhead over Sleepyhead.”

“Well, isn't that a change,” she remarked sarcastically. She looked around as he stood, and he noticed a nervous glint in her eyes. “We can set up a tent at the base of the stones. The wind should stay off of it that way.”

“What's wrong?” he asked, being rewarded with an aggravated huff.

“How in the world do you _always_ know when something's wrong? I literally just did nothing to give away that something's bothering me!”

“So something _is_ bothering you?” Another aggravated huff before a sigh of resignation.

“Yes, okay? Something's bothering me, but we're not talking about it until you and I get the tent set up. It's way too freaking cold up here to sit out in the open talking.”

“Are you saying that you've got a tent stashed in the void, too?” She ignored his question, wordlessly conjuring several things.

Once they finished setting everything up, he stepped back to admire their handiwork, realising that the tent was much larger than he'd first thought. Four people could easily fit in it and sleep comfortably. It was made out of thick furs that would trap heat and keep the cold out. There was a small rolled up door made of the same furs.

He turned to Sybil, who was busy conjuring the things necessary for a fire. “Where'd you get this? Not many people sell tents, especially not this large or well-made.”

“I made it,” she said simply as he helped her clear a spot in front of their tent. He stopped and watched her in disbelief.

“ _You_ made it? Miss I Can't Sew To Save My Life made _this_? I saw the stitching on it and it's pretty damn good.”

“Yes, _I_ made it, Dickhead.”

“How?”

She was silent for a moment. “I enchanted the needle,” she said quietly, a sheepish smile breaking out on her face. He could stop himself from laughing; he didn't exactly know what he found so damn funny, but he just couldn't stop laughing. The way she'd said it, her small smile, her laugh joining his, they all made him overjoyed. It was a happiness he hadn't felt in a very long time.

After they got the fire started with Sybil taking a shortcut and using her magic, they both sat just inside the tent’s doorway, which was large enough for them to both fit comfortably. Sybil had produced a couple of mead bottles from nowhere, so they sat sipping on them. Vilkas noticed a dull hunger, but chose to ignore it, wanting to know what was bothering Sybil first.

“It's just… We need to get an Elder Scroll, Vilkas,” she sighed. “Do you realise how difficult those things are to find? I mean, the only option I can see is going to the College and hoping that they have one or at least have heard the whereabouts of one.”

“Did they have one when you were there?” he asked.

“Not that I knew of. And it's unlikely that they've found one in the last five or six years.”

“Why would you say that?” He took a swig of his drink.

“They’ve been steadily losing students for quite a while now; there aren’t enough people to go out searching for them.” She paused for a moment, then sighed heavily. “But that’s not the problem, not a problem at all really. I’m fine with looking for the Elder Scroll. However, I don’t want to go back to the College, Vilkas. Hell, I don’t know if I even _can_ anymore. I mean, I was _banished_. I don’t really see any hope in returning from that.”

Vilkas could easily hear the bite of sadness in her tone. He watched as she fiddled with the rim of her bottle, and he didn’t exactly know what to say. After a moment's hesitation, he finally inquired, “Is there any other option? Maybe we could find out some other way.”

She shook her head, frowning. “No. Paarthurnax didn’t even know where we’d begin looking; I was the one that thought of asking Urag. If anyone knew where an Elder Scroll was, it'd be him. And I’m pretty sure Arngeir would say the same.”

“Well, maybe they'll let you in because you're Dragonborn. You said it yourself, in the grander scheme of things, you've got more pull than most; I’ll be honest, that kind of worries me.” He nudged her playfully, causing her to smirk.

“Oh yes, you should be worried. I'm gonna start abusing my power, like you did when you made me clean the whole mead hall,” she retorted, earning an eye roll from him.

“Just be happy I didn't make you do something worse, like cleaning out Whiterun's stables.”

“You wouldn't dare make me.” She leaned towards him a bit, a challenging look in her eyes.

“Oh, yes, I would,” he said lowly, leaning in as well. He narrowed his eyes when he saw her shiver, her eyes glinting in the firelight. After a second, he realised how close they were; he could feel her honey-scented breath on him. Vilkas risked a glance at her lips, noticing her do the same. Hers parted just slightly, and he was so desperately tempted to capture them with his.

But instead, he quickly pulled back, turning his head and awkwardly clearing his throat. _Can't happen, won't happen, don't ever get that close to her again…_

He heard her give a small sigh and thought she was going to say something, but no other sound came. He looked over at her to see her staring deeply into the fire, and he could've sworn she looked damn near disappointed, melancholy even. After a second, she perked up a bit, but he could tell that she was just pretending.

“I guess I don't have to worry about going immediately,” she said out of the blue.

“What?”

“To the College, I mean. I have to make a run to Falkreath tomorrow,” she said, facing him.

“Why's that?”

“A couple of days ago, I got a letter from the jarl-”

“You got a letter from the Jarl of Falkreath? You say that like it happens every day.”

“Well, I am quite the popular person,” she joked. “It's concerning some property I have in the hold. Apparently, someone broke in and stole a few valuable trinkets. They needed me to come as soon as it was convenient for me to identify exactly what was stolen. It should only take a day.”

“You have a house in Falkreath, too?” he asked, wondering just how much money Sybil actually had. “Wait, I didn't think they had any available property down in Falkreath.”

“They sold me a plot of land. I built a manor on it. It has its own library,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Vilkas nodded slowly, staring at her. “A library. Of course your manor has a library,” he whispered, deciding that whatever Sybil told him from that point on could not surprise him. He shook his head after a moment, taking a swig of his drink. “And will you need me to come with you to Falkreath?”

“Oh, that won't be necessary. It'll just be some really boring stuff. However, I wouldn't mind if you waited for me in Riverwood; Delphine left the inn to Kenton. It was quite a last-minute decision, but he assured her he'd take care of the place. We'll need to check in on him.”

Vilkas sighed, dreading the visit to the fiery-eyed kid. “Why not?” he said. “But if he gets on my nerves too much before you get back, there's no promise that I won't kill him.”

Sybil rolled her eyes. “You don't mean that.”

“What makes you so sure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She watched him for a second before saying, “Please don't kill him. I'm already a wanted criminal; you don't need to be one, too.” He chuckled quietly.

“Fine. I guess I'll refrain from killing him.”

“Thank you. Now, I think we should eat something and then turn in for the night,” she suggested, already conjuring things to cook.

They ate beef stew, that he prepared, in comfortable silence, Sybil sighing happily once she finished her share.

“Wow!” she breathed, sounding completely content, a soft smile on her face. “That was amazing, Vilkas. Aela was so right about your cooking.”

He laughed and shook his head, a smile growing on his face when she leaned against him. He looked down at her, watching her as she stared off into the distance, noticing her eyelids become heavy with sleep. He felt as if it was the first time he saw how her hair fell into her eyes, or how she had the barest hint of dimples when she wore a content smile. It seemed as if his heart skipped a beat when her stunning, adorably tired eyes looked up at him.

“I'm tired,” she whispered.

“I can tell,” he whispered back, still smiling at her.

“I think I'm gonna go to bed.”

“Okay, Starshine. Sweet dreams.” She smiled wider at her nickname and moved to stand. She stopped herself and looked at him again.

“You need to go to bed, too.”

He rolled his eyes at her and sarcastically said, “Alright, mother.”

They both laid down on their bedrolls, the fire still crackling outside. He watched Sybil from across the tent, knowing the exact moment she dropped off into sleep by her change in breathing. He thought back to earlier, to her fear of the idea of going back to the College of Winterhold.

“It's going to be okay, Starshine,” he whispered into the night.

 

***

_“Hey, Urag,” Sybil tugged at Urag’s pants, trying to get his attention; she held a large, ancient-looking book in her other hand._

_The Orc looked down at her, baring his teeth in a way that she knew was smiling. “What is it, child? Do you have another question?”_

_“Yes,” she said as she climbed up on the stool he rarely used but always kept behind his desk. She set the book down on the surface and opened to the appropriate page, pointing to the subject in question. “What is this?”_

_The man took a close look at what she was pointing to and discovered that it was a sleeping spell, which was written in Dovahzul, the language of the dragons. He told her this, watching as she nodded along. “However, though I can tell you what it is, I cannot tell you what it says. Reading Dovahzul is a very, very rare talent, mainly reserved to the Greybeards up at High Hrothgar. But I do believe that Savos has the translation for it hidden around here somewhere.”_

_“I know what it says,” she said simply, causing Urag to raise an eyebrow._

_“You do, now? Well, why don't you go ahead and tell me.”_

_Sybil spoke without even looking towards the paper, as if reciting it from memory._

_“Sleep, dear child, for there are dreams to meet. Rest, dear child, for tomorrow is soon to come. One day soon, you will perform wondrous feats, and fly in peace off into the sun.” Urag stared at her for a long moment after she finished, a look of utter bewilderment in his eyes._

_“I…I do believe that is correct. Sibylline, how do you know this?”_

_“I have trouble sleeping. My sister used to sing to me before I went to bed. I knew she wasn't speaking normally, but I could understand her perfectly anyway. Afterwards, I'd sleep without any bad dreams at all.”_

_“Amazing,” she heard him mutter. “Listen, Sibylline. You stay here while I go speak to Mirabelle about this.” She nodded before the man hurried off, and she really had intended to stay put. She really had._

_But curiosity got the better of her. She quickly got off the stool and followed after Urag as quietly as she could. She found him and Mirabelle downstairs in the entrance hall. They were speaking quietly, Urag’s tone urgent and Mirabelle’s tone almost intolerant. She quickly discovered that she was the topic of discussion._

_“But she can understand Dovahzul! I don't know how her sister knew it, but she was singing it to her throughout her entire childhood. She understood it perfectly! Only Dragonborn can do that!” he explained._

_She heard Mirabelle give an exasperated sigh. “There hasn't been a Dragonborn in centuries, much less any dragons! Either way, it won't change anything. She will not be allowed to attend a school of magic at such a young age! The child is only ten!”_

_“But she has so much potential! If it isn't nurtured now, she may lose it!” Urag pressed. “She_ needs _to start early!”_

_The was a moment of silence and then a resigned sigh from Mirabelle. When she spoke, she sounded tired. “Fine, but she will not start this early. We will let her join on her fifteenth birthday, instead of her eighteenth. She will be the youngest to officially join a school of magic in the entire history of the College. You will teach her simple spells to keep her mind sharp; have her learn all she can from reading. We will expect more from her than a normal mage; she better be prepared.”_

_“Oh, she will. I promise you, she can do it. Thank you so much.” She sped up the stairs when she heard approaching footsteps, hurrying to get back to her stool._

_When Urag entered the library, she was seated on her stool, pretending to read the rest of the page. She cast a quick glance to him, but kept her head down._

_“So, Sibylline,” he started, causing her to look up, “did you stay put as I said?” His face seemed blank, but she could've sworn she saw the shadow of a smile in his eyes. She felt her cheeks heat up, that prickly feeling when you lie bothering her._

_“Yes, sir,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes._

_He huffed a laugh. “Sibylline, if you're going to be sneaking around a lot, you need to learn to be a better liar. I'm guessing you heard everything?”_

_She nodded. “Is she really going to let me learn early?” she asked, childish hope filling her voice._

_“Yes, she is. But we need to begin working on simple spells. They will get you ready for what you are to learn in the schools. Now, which branch of magic would you like to begin working in?”_

_Sybil found that she could not decide, so Urag taught her the easiest spell from each. They spent the rest of the day learning and practicing these spells. By supper time, she was exhausted. She never knew that even the simplest spells could be so draining._

_As she lied in her small bed that night, tired but unable to sleep, she thought back to her sister, trying to remember the sound of her voice as she sang the lullaby. She felt a few tears slip down her cheeks as she recalled Raina's warm embrace, her soft voice, her loving nature._

_She still had tears in her eyes when she finally fell asleep, just a few hours before sunrise._

Sybil woke suddenly, feeling herself jump a bit. Her cheeks were wet with tears, the cold night air making them sting. She rolled over to see that the fire had died and that Vilkas was still sound asleep. She quickly wiped off her tears as she sat up.

As quietly as she could, Sybil exited the tent, seeing that it was still night; the moons were both near the center of the sky, the aurora seeming to luxuriously wrap around them as if the were the finest silks. She was surprised to see Paarthurnax at the edge of the mountain, seeming lost in thought as he stared into the sky.

He must've heard her approach by the crunch of the snow because her looked back at her, his dark eyes solemn.

“Is something the matter, Dovahkiin? You seem upset,” he said simply, making a gesture with his wing that she took as an invitation to sit.

“No, no, not upset,” she explained as she sat. “Just...remembering, I suppose. Remembering things that happened so very long ago.”

“The act of remembering can be quite a painful thing, quite a hard thing. Many people do not have the will to remember things from long ago. They ignore it, hope that it will just leave them be and let them live their life in peace.” Paarthurnax settled down beside her, warmth and security radiating off of him.

“You sound as if you're familiar with remembering painful things,” she stated.

“Living a life as long as I have forces you to. I must remember all the things from my past in order to learn from them. I can let them go, forgive myself, but I cannot forget them.”

“Learn from them…” she echoed, thinking of her dream, which was already fading from her memory. A moment of silence passed between them before she spoke again. “I must ask you something, Paarthurnax.”

“Speak, child.”

“Did you ever affect my sister as well? Guide her actions?”

Instead of answering directly, he inquired, “Why do you ask this?”

She sighed. “I had a dream. Well, it was more like a memory. Fourteen years ago, there was this book in the library at the College, filled to the brim with spells created during Alduin's Dragon Cult. It analysed them, explained their use. There was one that I recognised, and when I asked Urag about it, he explained that it was a sleeping spell. Raina used to sing it to me, that's how I recognised it. But how could she have known it? Dad never had any spellbooks, so there was no way for her to have discovered it. Unless…”

“Unless, I stepped in, yes. You are correct, Sybilline. You had terrible nightmares, I'm sure you remember. I used your connection to her to give her that spell. When she began singing it to you, you had no more nightmares for years until she left.”

“I don't think I've gotten better sleep since those days,” she said. “I wish I could remember the sound of her voice…”

Paarthurnax looked back out over the cloud layer, making a noise akin to a hum. “You will hear it again one day, Dovahkiin. One day soon. Now, go back to bed. Get some rest.” She stared at him for a moment, her brow furrowed. _One day soon…_ The dragon looked back to her, giving her a small nudge. “I said back to bed. Now, Sibylline.”

She did as she was told, walking back to the tent in a daze. Once she reached the tent entrance, she started to turn. “What do you mean, ‘One day soon’?” But when she fully turned, Paarthurnax was already flying off into the night sky.

She sighed and walked back into the tent, finding Vilkas still passed out, sprawled on his back. She smiled at him, shaking her head. As she settled back down, a wave of exhaustion washed over her, dragging her into a deep sleep.

***

**_Morndas, 7 th day of Last Seed, 4E 201 (Mid-Morning)_ **

 

“Sybil, wake up.”

Sybil roused slightly, but couldn't pull herself into complete consciousness. She felt a hand on her shoulder, just barely shaking her.

“Come on now, Syb. We have to go.”

“Do we _have_ to?” she moaned, still refusing to wake up.

“You know we do,” the voice said, and she could hear a smile in it.

Finally, she opened her eyes, finding Vilkas crouched in front of her. He was, in fact, smiling at her, a look in his eyes making her heart flutter. He helped her sit up, handing her a waterskin. _Well, he's being rather nice…_

“How'd you sleep, Starshine?” he asked kindly, taking a few drinks from his own waterskin.

“Okay, I guess,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “I woke up once, but otherwise, it was fine. Why are you being so nice?”

He looked at her with mock offense. “Can't I just be nice?”

“Considering your nickname is literally Dickhead, no, you cannot.” He rolled his eyes at her, shaking his head.

After they ate a quick breakfast, they took down the tent. Paarthurnax still hadn't returned, so Sybil decided that they should go ahead and leave.

“I think we should teleport directly to Riverwood,” she said as she made all parts to the tent dematerialise. Vilkas gave her a skeptical look. “I can take it, I promise. I told you that it was getting easier.”

His look softened, telling her that he had silently relented. He was remained silent as she said the spell, the small town of Riverwood materialising around them after a moment. Sybil felt a bit drained, but she refused to show any sign of it, not wanting Vilkas to be constantly worry over her. No one seemed to notice the pair appear from nowhere.

They walked in comfortable silence to the inn, opening the door to find only a few people inside. A bard was singing softly, her voice filling the dinner area. Vilkas noticed Sybil humming along and began wondering what she sounded like when she sang. But before he could even string a thought together, a loud voice jarred him.

“Oh my gods! You actually came back!” Kenton hurried towards them, a giant grin plastered on his face. He seemed to be talking only to her, completely ignoring Vilkas. “I know you said you would, but I guess I thought you wouldn't.”

“Oh, come now. You knew I'd come back. I never go back on my word,” Sybil said, smiling and ruffling the kid’s hair, having to reach up to do so. “How’ve things been here?”

“Things have been great! I had always thought running an inn would be hard, but it turns out to pretty easy, for me at least. Especially with Orgnar helping me out. We have our slow days like today, of course, but otherwise, things have been running very smoothly.”

“Any trouble with the guards?” Sybil asked, lowering her voice.

“Surprisingly, no. No one seems to care here.” Vilkas and Sybil both shared a look of surprise, having expected the guards to be on high alert for Casters, especially considering that Riverwood was practically in Imperial territory.

She gave the young man another pleasant smile. “Well, that’s good to hear. I was worried we were going to have to bail you out again,” she joked, although there seemed to be some truth behind her words.

“What do you guys need? Are you staying here for the night?” Kenton inquired, watching them expectantly.

“I am, she’s not,” Vilkas answered, noticing his smile falter. Vilkas raised a daring brow, wanting him to have a problem with it. But Sybil saw it and elbowed him in the side, forcing him to give a strained smile. Kenton now wore a pout that seemed overly dramatic.

“Listen, I’ve gotta make a run to Falkreath. If all goes well, I’ll be back before noon tomorrow. We can all have lunch together if you want. Okay?” she offered. Kenton nodded happily, all traces of sadness gone. _He’s almost like a puppy…_ “Good. Now, I need to go. So please give him a room for the night.”

“Alright. I’ll get everything ready. You be careful now; there’s been rumours of more bandit activity around Falkreath.”

“Don’t worry about me. Anyone comes at me, I’ll just roast them alive. Simple,” Sybil shrugged, quieting when she got several odd looks from the other patrons. She gave them both a soft goodbye and had reached the doorway before she felt a hand gently catch her wrist. She turned to see Vilkas standing before her, a glint of worry in his eyes.

“I know you said it’s just a simple errand, but _please_ be careful. You never know what could happen or who could show up,” he said sincerely, knowing that she understood just who he was talking about: the Bloodlust bandits. She gave him a small smile and a shake of her head.

“I promise, I’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry, Vilkas. Just please don’t kill Kenton if he gets on your nerves. I’d rather not come back to find a dead body and a wanted criminal. We’d have to go on the run together forever,” she joked half-heartedly.

Vilkas chuckled softly. “Don’t think I’d mind that, honestly,” he muttered, not catching himself before he spoke. She smirked as he cleared his throat awkwardly. “You should probably get going. Be safe, Syb.”

***

Sybil could see Falkreath’s walls as she neared the city. Birds were singing jovially as the wind blew through the trees, making the trunks creak lightly. She kept her eyes and ears open to everything happening around her, her heart jumping into her throat at every noise. However, she thankfully encountered no challenges.

The road diverged to Falkreath’s entrance, but she didn’t make the turn. She continued walking, nearing her true destination. She descended to the hidden area beneath the road, although she didn’t really believe it was very hidden. _Anyone_ could just waltz down there and find the red and black moaning door, and the Dark Brotherhood would have to move sanctuaries.

And of course she hadn’t had any break in at her manor; she had set up enough traps to keep that from ever happening. She just needed an excuse to slip away long enough and not look ridiculously suspicious. The last thing she needed was Vilkas _truly_ thinking that she was involved with the Brotherhood.

Sybil pulled the heavy, stone door open, letting it slam shut behind her. Her fingers trailed along the cave-like walls as she made her way to Astrid’s “planning room.” She found the blonde woman hunched over the stone table, scanning a large map of Skyrim.

She cleared her throat, dragging the woman’s attention from the map. The matron of the sanctuary looked tired with dark bags under her eyes; she had more lines on her face than before and wore something close to an annoyed scowl.

However, when Astrid saw her, her face lit up with a smile.

“Sybil!” The woman approached her quickly, placing her hands on Sybil’s shoulders and looking her over. A mixture of concern and aggravation replaced the smile, and Sybil knew exactly what was coming. “Just where have you been? It’s been over a month! I was so worried about you! And there were several times we needed you here to help with contracts. What have you been doing all this time?”

Sybil rolled her eyes but smiled and shook her head good-naturedly. “You probably won’t believe it.”

Astrid arched an eyebrow. “Try me,” she deadpanned.

“Well, there were dragons, monks, a Thalmor infiltration, kids, some new friends, and, oh yeah, some not-so-friendly friends that have tried to kill me twice so far. That about sums it up.” Astrid watched her for a long moment, her hands still resting on the mage’s shoulders; Sybil could easily see the gears grinding away.

“So, I was right to be worried about you,” she muttered to herself. “Sybil, where have you been through all this? Why haven’t you come home before now?” The older woman’s voice was laced with sincere concern, and she looked even more tired than just a few moments earlier.

Sybil felt a pang of guilt. She knew she should’ve come back earlier, had considered doing so several times, but found that she just couldn’t, for an array of reasons. “I’ve been staying with the Companions for the time being,” she said, only answering the first question. “They’re the new friends I made. They saved my life actually. I had been injured, and the wound got infected. I probably would’ve been on my deathbed if not for them. Also, I only have until tomorrow morning before I have to get back to Riverwood to meet back up with someone.”

Astrid nodded and wordlessly pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m really glad you came back okay.” She let her go and motioned for her to follow her over to the table. She sank heavily down into the chair behind it, Sybil standing across from her. “Wait… Did you say something about the dragons?”

“Yes, I did,” she answered, nodding. “And boy do I have a story to tell you.” Sybil began telling Astrid everything pertaining to the dragons that had happened to her since the last time she was in the sanctuary. Again, after she finished, the matron simply stared at her, dumbstruck.

“So, you’re Dragonborn? Like, from all the old stories?”

“By all accounts, yes. Never thought I’d be so important,” she muttered.

“Wow. That has to be stressful,” Astrid deadpanned, shaking her head. “How are you dealing with all of it?”

“Okay, I guess. I’ve had someone with me through most of it; he’s been making it a little less stressful, even though he was a pain in the ass in the beginning.”

Astrid raised her eyebrows, watching the younger woman curiously. “He?”

Sybil glared at her for the suggestive tone. “Don’t even start. I’ve had enough people doing what you’re about to do.” Astrid laughed and seemed to let the subject drop. After a moment, she shook her head again in disbelief.

“I knew from the moment I kidnapped you that you were something special. Especially since you were the first to ever wake up while I was actually moving you to that shack,” she recalled, smiling fondly.

Sybil rolled her eyes. “Yeah, did you _have_ to hit me so hard? I probably would’ve ended up coming with you quietly if you’d just explained what was going on.”

“Like I said, it was the first time it had ever happened, and you were putting up quite the fight. I guess I panicked,” she admitted, though a little begrudgingly. “However, it is in the past; no hard feelings, hopefully. I guess I should bring you up to date with things that have been going on here. Most importantly, Babette had a birthday. Her 357th one, to be exact. Don’t forget to wish her well.” At Sybil’s nod, she continued. “Second, the Night Mother and her _Keeper_ , Cicero, arrived while you were away. He dresses like a jester and acts like an insane fool, so try not to be too alarmed if you run into him; I know how dangerous you can be with incredibly loud noises, especially with those flames, and that is exactly what he is. An incredibly jarring, irritating noise that makes me want to just wrap my fingers around his tiny throat.”

“Well, it sounds like you wouldn’t actually mind if I “accidently” roasted him alive,” Sybil quipped.

“You’re definitely not wrong. But, unfortunately you can’t do that,” she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

“Is that what you’ve been losing sleep over?”

“Yes, I guess my lack of sleep is quite obvious. He makes me worry about the safety of the Family. Almost every day for the past week, he’s been locking himself in the Night Mother’s chambers and talking, muttering to someone. It well and truly sounds that he might actually be completely mad. I’m sure spending all your time with a corpse would do that to you.” She sighed. “Look, I need you to do something for me. Go up there and eavesdrop on him and this traitor he’s consorting with. You can’t stick to the shadows; they’ll see you easily. You need to hide somewhere, somewhere they’d never dare to look. You need to hide in the Night Mother’s coffin.”

Sybil couldn’t cover the look of utter disgust on her face and knew that Astrid understood what she was thinking.

“I know. It’s extremely disrespectful and, simply put, gross. But this is very important, Sybil. I _need_ you to do this for me,” the older woman pleaded. Sybil watched her for a moment, then sighed in resignation, desperately trying to hide her disgust.

“Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But you owe me after this.” Astrid smiled gratefully as the mage walked away, descending the stairs into the main sanctum. She was walking past the Word Wall when something caught her eye.

Shimmering blue light. It was emanating from one of the words she’d spent many hours sitting in front of, trying to decipher. She approached it, knowing what would transpire. After she absorbed the Word of Power, she felt a new knowledge of death bloom in her mind. She backed away slowly, not wanting to chase the warm feeling away too quickly.

After the moment passed, she ascended the stairs leading to the Night Mother’s chambers, not knowing whether to feel excitement or repulsion. On one hand, she got to finally see the Night Mother in person. On the other, she got to get quite a close up to the corpse. _The rotting, stinking, probably squishy corpse…_

Sybil shuddered and fought to suppress the urge to run, to just tear out of the sanctuary, far away from the idea of hopping in an already occupied coffin. _I mean, I like somewhat small spaces, but I am_ not _okay with sharing one with a corpse!_ She stopped and took many deep breaths to calm down and steel her resolve. _You can do this, Sybil. Astrid needs you to do this. The sanctuary needs you to do this._

Finally, she mustered the courage to push through the iron door and enter the room.

There the coffin sat, on the raised platform in front of the circular stained-glass window. The thing was huge, made of polished iron. A large, metal, mummified-looking head adorned the top of it, two skeletal arms coming down as if to open the coffin doors.

Sybil approached it slowly, asking herself if she was really going to do it over and over again before crouching down to pick the lock with ease. The doors swung open, revealing the mummified corpse of a woman. She was bound, wearing a dress of tattered cloth. Her head hung at an odd angle, and her mouth gaped open, rotten and broken teeth exposed. The Night Mother’s eyes were gone, just shriveled sockets, but it seemed as if the corpse was staring at her. _So fucking creepy…_

There were footsteps out in the hall, and in a panic, Sybil jumped into the coffin, the doors swinging shut behind her without any prompting. Darkness consumed the tight space, so she pressed her back against the doors to keep from touching the Night Mother. _This is so gross, this is so gross, this is so fucking gross!_

“I swear, if you come to life and even _try_ to touch me, I won’t even hesitate to torch you,” Sybil hissed at the corpse, knowing her words fell on deaf ears but not caring. The threat made her feel better, if only by a smidge.

A door slammed shut, silencing her. “Are we alone? Yes...yes...alone. Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us.” Sybil supposed the unfamiliar, high-pitched voice belonged to the Keeper, Cicero. “Everything is going according to plan. The others...I've spoken to them. And they're coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex...perhaps even the Argonian, and the un-child…” There was a momentary pause. “What about you? Have you...have you spoken to anyone? No... No, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and the saying!” She jolted slightly when Cicero bagan raising his voice. “And what do you do? Nothing!” The anger was gone as fast as it appeared. She heard a muffled sigh. “Not...not that I'm angry! No, never! Cicero understands. Heh. Cicero always understands! And obeys! You will talk when you're ready, won't you? Won't you...sweet Night Mother?”

_So, he’s just talking to the corpse? Well, Astrid might have to worry about him being crazy, but I don’t think there’s a traitor among us. But what plan…?_

Sybil’s train of thought was interrupted when the Night Mother’s corpse began to dimly glow. She felt her eyes widen to the size of saucers when a raspy voice invaded her mind.

_“Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener.”_

_Uhn uhn, nope! This is not happening! This can not be happening! Why the hell is she glowing and how in oblivion is she speaking?! Her mouth isn’t even moving! She’s dead, for gods’ sakes!_ Sybil’s breathing became uneven as she panicked, unable to keep any scrap of composure with a corpse talking to her. _Oh gods, you must be going insane, Sybil! Insane just like Cicero. What if that’s why he’s so crazy? Maybe he crawled inside the coffin, for reasons I don’t even want to know, and she spoke to him? Drove him mad? Oh gods, what if this is how she recruits her keepers? I don’t want to wear a jester’s outfit for the rest of my life!_

She hardly even paid attention when Cicero began speaking again. “Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will? If you will not speak? To anyone!” _She’s speaking to me, buddy! Loud and clear!_

 _“Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one. Yes, you. You who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones.”_ All Sybil could think was, _Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew! “I give you this task -- journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre.”_

Sybil started vigorously shaking her head. “Too bad because I do _not_ want to,” she whispered.

“Poor Cicero has failed you. Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet mother,” he said, sounding almost heartbroken. “I've tried, so very hard. But I just can't find the Listener.”

_“Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for, all these years: "Darkness rises when silence dies."”_

“I’d rather not, thanks,” Sybil said after releasing a shaky breath.

The doors swung open without warning, and because she had been pressing herself against them so hard, she tumbled into the floor, flat on her back. Cicero stood over her, staring at her in horror.

“What? What treachery!” Sybil scrambled to her feet when he started screaming. She tried to circle around him, to get as far away from that damned corpse as she could, but he grabbed her arms in a vice-like grip, one sure to bruise. “Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin! Explain yourself! Speak, worm!”

Before she knew what she was saying, she cried, “The Night Mother spoke to me! Said something about me being “the one.” She uselessly tried to wriggle from his grip, but it did not budge.

“She...spoke to you? More treachery! More trickery and deceit! You lie!  
The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener! And there is... _no_...Listener!” He was in her face now, screaming at her with pure rage in his eyes.

“Wait! She said to-to tell you, “Darkness rises when silence dies.””

He paused, scrutinising her with narrowed eyes. His grip on her arms only tightened. When he spoke again, he was somewhat calmer, no longer yelling, his voice just strained. “She...she said that? She said _those_ words...to you? "Darkness rises when silence dies"? But those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero…” His face broke out into a huge, almost unnatural grin. He finally released her arms in favour of dancing and clapping jovially. “Then, it is true! She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! Ha ha ha! All hail the Listener!”

Sybil instinctively backed away from him, only stopping when she collided with a broken shelf. The door on the opposite side of the room flew open to reveal Astrid looking pissed and ready for a fight.

“By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you've been planning is over!” She shouted. Sybil quickly crossed to her, honestly not above cowering behind her after what just transpired. “Are you alright? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where's the accomplice?”

Before Sybil could get a word out, Cicero was speaking. “I spoke only to the Night Mother! I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn't speak to me! Oh, no. She spoke only to her! To the Listener!”

“What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?” Astrid looked to her for an answer, but she just shook her head quickly.

“You know what, I’m not doing this tonight,” she said, her voice noticeably shaking. “I was-I was questioning with the whole “get in the coffin with the corpse” deal, but I was _done_ when that thing started talking to me.” She could feel her skin crawl just thinking of how close she had been to the Night Mother, and that urge to get as far away as possible returned. So, she walked out the door Astrid had entered through, ignoring the calls following her.

Sybil had made it back to the planning room by the time she felt someone’s hand on her arm. The touch hadn’t been rough by any means, but she jerked away, hissing at the painful contact. Cicero’s grip might’ve done more damage than she’d first thought.

She turned to be met with a worried gaze from the matron. “What is it? Sybil, did he hurt you?”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly gentle when I popped out of the coffin. He grabbed my arms pretty roughly, that’s all,” she said quietly.

“I’ll kill him,” she heard Astrid murmur.

“No, don’t. I’m fine, it’s fine. Sorry for just walking out, it’s just-ugh,” she tried to explain, shivering again. “I was in the freaking coffin with that _thing_. And the _thing_ started talking to me. Talking! To me! It’s dead! How can it be talking?! I’m gonna be having nightmares about this for the rest of my life, I swear!”

Astrid sighed heavily. “What did she say to you exactly?”

“Go to Volunruud, talk to some guy named Amaund Motierre. Gods, Astrid, what if he’s a corpse, too?”

Astrid looked thoughtful. “Amaund Motierre? I have no idea who that is. But Volunruud, that I have heard of. And I know where it is.”

“I’m guessing you want me to go there, do as she says?” Sybil really, really did not want to, but if Astrid thought it was necessary, she would, though begrudgingly.

“What? No! I don’t care if the Night Mother spoke to you; I am still the leader of this family! You only take your orders from me. I need to think about this for a while. Go find Nazir. I’m sure he has work for you. I’ll find you once I’m ready to discuss the matter further.” Astrid started to walk away but stopped suddenly. “And Sybil? I’m sorry for putting you in a position that would psychologically scar you. It was unwise; I should’ve carried the task out myself.” With that, she retreated into her bedroom.

Sybil took several deep breaths, still reeling from everything. After a moment, she rolled up one of her sleeves, checking the damage. Sure enough, several dark bruises were forming on her upper arm; they were in the distinct shape of a hand. _Great, that’s going to be a fucking pain. Oh gods, what if Vilkas sees? What am I going to tell him?_

Deciding that it was currently the least of her worries, she pushed it to the back of her mind. She began searching the sanctuary for Nazir, trying to completely avoid Cicero and the Night Mother’s chambers. Finally, she found him in the dining hall.

“Ah, if it isn’t Sybil,” the Redguard greeted kindly. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has. Now, I need a distraction from certain things going on. Astrid said you’d have some work for me.”

“Oh, yes,” he confirmed, a sinister smile on his face. “I’ve been reserving the _perfect_ contract, just for you.”

***

Sybil approached Lemkil’s house silently, moving through the shadows of the night. The sky was completely overcast, making it perfect to sneak in, kidnap the abusive son of a bitch, and take him back to Lund’s hut for a long night of suffering.

She had used the teleportation spell, but was only able to make it halfway, ending up just west of the mountain range on Whiterun Hold’s southern border. She hadn’t had enough energy to try and redo the spell, so she was forced to walk the rest of the way, getting to the small town around early evening. Deciding to wait until nightfall, she killed her time by talking to the residents, including Sissel, who seemed to be the main victim of her father’s abuse.

The child had been hesitant and guarded at first, but as Sybil began talking about her own children, Sissel became more open. She began asking all kinds of questions about them, about what the rest of Skyrim was like, and even revealed that the town’s mage was teaching her some magic, though Sybil wasn't allowed to tell anyone else about it or Sissel’s father would be furious.

Sybil began to wonder how much of a monster you’d have to be to hurt someone so sweet and innocent.

As she began picking the lock on the door, she thought back to what Nazir had said. This really was the perfect contract for her. He knew to mainly dish out contracts for abusers, rapists, and serial killers to her, for she was extremely _brutal_ when it came to their extermination. She usually liked to drag them off somewhere secluded and torture them for hours on end before snuffing out their miserable existence.

And he had assured her that the children would be taken care of afterwards. With Limkil out of the way, Sissel would be adopted by the town’s mage, and her sister would most likely be sent to Honorhall in Riften. She didn’t necessarily like the thought of the twins being seperated, but after Sissel had mentioned that Britte beat her just as much as their father, she was considerably more open to the idea.

Sybil slowly opened the door, keeping absolutely silent. Once inside, she noticed the two children’s sleeping forms, knowing she’d have to be extra careful not to wake them. However, she didn’t see it as much of a challenge considering she had literally dragged someone out of a bed without even alerting their spouse before.

She crept over to the man’s bed, standing over him as she conjured a rag and some sleeping tree sap. It was a method Astrid had taught, the same one used when she had kidnapped Sybil. One simply had to hold the rag over the unsuspecting victim’s mouth until they were sure not to wake.

That is exactly what Sybil did, unsurprised when the man’s eyes flew open in alarm. He tried to fight, but he quickly went limp. She pulled him from his bed, having to tug hard at the dead weight.

On her way to the shack, she felt something give in his arm, heard a pop, but she honestly didn’t care what injury she caused on her way to the hut. He’d suffer far worse soon.

***

Sybil sat in a chair across from Lemkil, waiting for him to come to. A bucket of water was beside her legs, ready to be used if he didn’t wake in the next few moments. Finally, the bald man jolted awake, frantically looking around.

“Nice of you to finally join me, Lemkil,” she said nonchalantly, throwing him a “kind” smile. The man glared at her, his face twisting oddly in anger.

“Who are you?” he spat. “Where are we? What do you want with me?” He began tugging at his restraints, but quickly stopped to cry out in pain. “What did you to me?”

“I wouldn’t struggle if I were you; I dislocated your shoulder bringing you up here, and I’m sure it doesn’t feel to pleasant. To answer your other bothersome questions, I am a...representative of the Dark Brotherhood; I’m sure you’ve heard of us. Second, we are just outside of town, in Lund’s hut. Seeing as he’s too dead to make use of this house, I am. And, lastly, what I want from you is your life.” She shot him another smile as his expression grew increasingly horrified. He began fruitlessly struggling again, but, again, he had to stop because of the pain. “I’ve already told you not to struggle.”

“Like hell I won’t. You’re insane, bitch!”

Sybil felt her eye twitch. “Well, that wasn’t very nice,” she tutted as she stood, conjuring a wicked looking daedric knife. She moved so that she was directly in front of him, standing over him menacingly.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because you are a despicable person that deserves to burn in Oblivion for eternity,” she explained simply. “Apparently, someone really doesn’t like you, and it’s rather easy for me to see why. Now, how should I start our little...session?” She made a show of thinking, tapping her finger against her chin, all the while ignoring his pleas for his release. “Ah,” she said, snapping her fingers, “I know just what to use.”

She conjured a small, red bottle in her free hand, holding it in front of his face for him to see.

“Do you know what this is?” The man gave her a look of fearful confusion before shaking his head. “It is a very potent poison only found in Hammerfell. A single drop into the bloodstream causes excruciating pain that lasts for several hours; the pain increases continually until it becomes so great that it stops your heart. An unpleasant death for an unpleasant man like you.”

Before he breathed a single word, she plunged her knife into his leg, careful not to hit anything too important. She didn’t want him bleeding out before they got to the fun part.

She listened patiently while he screamed, having already jerked the knife from his limb. Once he finally quieted to pitiful whimpers, she smiled at him. “Well, did that hurt? Because it’s nothing compared to what’s coming.”

“Please, stop,” he cried, but she simply shook her head, uncorking the vial. She very carefully tipped it, and they both watched as a single drop descended on him, right into the open, agonising wound.

And then the real screaming began.


	25. Caught In A Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to say that it's 4 in the morning where I am, so I'm super freaking tired. There may be typos in this note. Sorry I haven't uploaded in the past few months. I have been recovering from a devastating blow. At least, it was devastating from a writer's standpoint. The majority of my files on A Giver's Love corrupted. They just died. A tragic death. 
> 
> Many of them were future chapters. And they were huge. Like, 5,000 to 10,000 words long. but alas, every word is gone. So I have been trying to rewrite what I can remember. Also, this blow hasn't exactly been the best for motiviation so that's another reason why this chapter has taken so long.
> 
> I sincerely apologise for the long waits, but I won't be able to post again for about another month because I'm going out of the country. However, I will be writing as much as possible and getting caught up.
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter of angst(maybe) and fluff and whatever else may be in it (because I'm honestly too tired to remember). Goodnight, Lovelies!

       _ **Tirdas, 8 th day of Last Seed, 4E 201 **_

 

      "Well, I'm proud that you didn't kill him," Sybil said as the pair left the inn, having just finished lunch with Kenton. She rubbed her upper arms, still feeling a sharp pain every time she moved them the wrong way. If was difficult to hide from Mister I-See-Everything, but if Vilkas had seen any sign that she was in pain, he hadn't questioned her about it.

"There were definitely several moments when I wanted to, Syb. I swear he talks more than Heimskr." Sybil smiled and shook her head at him. "So, you haven't told me how we'll be getting to Winterhold. Are we walking or taking a carriage?"

"Well, a carriage would be preferable, but to my knowledge, most drivers don't like going all the way there because of the horrendous amounts of snow on the roads. We should probably take one as far as possible, then walk the rest of the way. Though I didn't really want to spend my evening trudging through a shitload of snow."

***

"Syb, are you awake?" Vilkas asked, looking down at the woman leaning against his shoulder.

"Barely," she murmured.

"Didn't get much sleep last night?"

"Not really. Was too busy..."

"Busy? With what?"

"The job for Astrid..."

Vilkas furrowed his brow in confusion. "What job? Who's Astrid?" he asked slowly, but there was no response. She had drifted off into sleep, her breathing evening out and her body completely relaxing against him.

"Everything alright back there?" the carriage driver called over his shoulder after they hit a rather large bump that just slightly caused Sybil to stir, and he swore she had whimpered in pain.

"Yep. Everything's just fine," he answered, left wondering what the hell Sybil had meant by "job." He had the feeling that Sybil had lied to him about why she'd gone to Falkreath. Or if she'd even gone to Falkreath at all.

***

"Finally!" Sybil exclaimed as the town's shadow loomed out of the never-ending snowfall. "I thought we'd never make it!" Smiling, she turned to Vilkas, who had been lagging behind her ever since they got off the carriage. However, the smile fell slightly when she noticed his brooding expression. "What's wrong, Vilkas?"

Her words seemed to snap him out of it, bringing his attention to her. "Nothing," he said dismissively. "Just thinking."

_I know a liar when I see one, Vilkas. Takes one to know one_ , she wanted to say, but bit her tongue, deciding not to press the issue. _But he looks so worried about something..._

"Let's just get to the inn. It's fucking freezing out here; I don't know how you lived here for so long."

"Well, a good coat helps," she said half-heartedly as she led them to the inn, feeling nostalgia flood her when she walked through the door. During her days at the College, she had enjoyed coming down to the inn and talking with the few townspeople; most had been kind to her, despite some holding disdain for the College. The innkeeper, Dagur, had been one of them; he and his family treated all the mages with kindness, for the bulk of their business came from the College.

The man looked up as they approached the counter, and recognition flickered across his face.

"By the gods, is that really you, Sibylline? I haven't seen you in almost five whole years! Not since you just up and disappeared!" the blond said in near disbelief.

"Yep, it's really me, Dagur. Sorry I haven't been around much," she responded, a feeling of guilt creeping in. When the College had exiled her, she had quickly left the small town, not being able to bring herself to say farewell to all the friends she'd made. She had always wanted to come back, but she just couldn't. Either fear, guilt, or work got in the way.

"Where have you been? I'd asked some of the mages that come through here, but no one would ever give me a straight answer. Honestly, I had thought you'd been killed." His words were another stab of guilt to her heart.

"Listen, Dagur, can we talk about it later? I'd really like to just get a room and some rest right now," she spoke quietly.

He hesitated but nodded. "Of course, dear. I told you that you were welcome anytime. Here, the room's just this way; I'm guessing your friend is staying too. There are two beds, if you'll be needing them."

"Um, y-yes. We will," she stuttered, so thankful that there were two beds. She didn't think she'd live through the embarrassment if she ended up snuggled against Vilkas like before. She stole a glance at him, seeing that he still seemed lost in pensive thought.

"It's on me tonight, so you don't need to worry about any payment." He started walking away.

"Wait, I can't let you do that! I have to pay; you told me yourself that you don't get much business through here," she insisted.

"That may be true, but you are a friend of the family. You will stay here for free, and I'll have no argument about it, young lady. Understand?"

The only answer was a long, defeated sigh from her, and she let him lead the pair to their room.

"Don't forget to speak to Haran if you get the chance. I'm sure she and Eirid would love to see you. Oh, you should see how much my little girl has grown," he gushed.

She gave a light chuckle and nodded. "I'll be sure to talk to both of them. Thank you very much, Dagur."

"You're welcome, Sibylline. Just ask if you need anything at all. That goes for you, as well, mister..."

"Vilkas. Thank you," he said with a slight smile.

Dagur quickly left the room, closing the door behind him. She heard Vilkas give a quiet sigh before he began walking towards his bed. He accidentally bumped against her arm and had already opened his mouth to apologise when she jerked back, hissing in pain.

"What's wrong?" he asked quickly, worry in his tone. She noticed the brooding demeanor completely disappear.

"It's nothing, I promise," she said through gritted teeth as she held her arm close, the places where Cicero had manhandled her throbbing with pain from the small contact.

"Well, obviously it's something."

"No, I'm fine. There's no need to worry," she said dismissively. She went to sit on her bed, hoping that he'd just drop it.

But he didn't.

         Of course.

"Sybil, stop lying to me," he said suddenly, his tone dead serious. It was enough to make her pause, enough to make her wonder if he was just referring to the current situation or if he was referring to everything else.

"Fine, okay," she said after a long moment of silence. She’d been trying to come up with a convincing story the entire way back to the Sanctuary. "In Falkreath, there was this crazy man that stopped me on the way to see the captain of the guard. He had grabbed a hold of me pretty roughly, ranting absolute nonsense. It left some bruises that have been rather painful, but they'll heal in time. So, there's no need to worry."

"Show me," he said, almost as if he didn't believe her. _Great. He's getting even better at seeing through me..._

She began rolling up one of her sleeves, worrying about his reaction when he saw how bad it was. She didn't want him getting angry. She knew he wouldn't be mad at her, of course; he'd be furious with the person who did the damage. Nevertheless, she knew if he got too angry, he ran the risk of transforming.

She avoided his eyes as he sat next to her, gently taking her arm in his hands, almost as if she was breakable. He examined the dark black and blue bruises just above her elbow; they had worsened since the previous night. Just a light brush of his finger made her try to flinch away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He looked up at her, his eyes capturing hers. She could see some anger in them, but there was more of a sense of shame than anything else. "I've been an ass while you were in pain."

"How have you-" she started before remembering his brooding, almost angry mood from earlier. _That had been over me?_ "Vilkas, are you mad at me?" she asked, suddenly feeling anxiety wash over her.

"No, not mad. Just...wondering what you've been lying to me about," he said after a moment. "Don't try to deny it; I know you've been lying. And I know you just lied to me again a second ago."

She stared at him silently, trying to figure out what she would say. Finally, after clearing her throat, she spoke, "I won't. I won't try to deny it because it's true. I haven’t been completely truthful about some things."

"Why?" he asked simply.

"Because telling you would've been dangerous. To both you and me." She remembered Astrid warning her about what happened to Family members that let the secret slip out to anyone outside of the Dark Brotherhood. It was considered a serious betrayal, and both the perpetrator and the person they told were promptly hunted down and mercilessly slaughtered, sometimes even tortured to death. "Even now I can't tell you the entire truth. But do know that I _did_ go to Falkreath, and it _was_ a madman that did this to me. Please, just trust me enough not to ask any questions about it. Nothing good will come from it if you do."

They stared at each other for a long while, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deceit. But all he could see was sincerity and fear. "Can I trust you, Sybil?" he inquired, his voice unusually quiet.

"Always," she answered immediately. After a few seconds, he began rolling her sleeve back down, being extra careful not to touch the bruising.

"We should probably get these checked out by one of the mages at the College. They might be able to make them heal faster or at least give you something for the pain. I'm turning in for the night." He stood and crossed to the bed opposite hers, stretching out on it with a sigh. After a moment, he said, "This bed is so much better than the one in Riverwood."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I guess I should turn in, too. I'll talk to Haran and Eirid tomorrow."

"Who are they?" Vilkas asked curiously, turning to look at her as she laid down and noticing when she winced slightly.

"Durag's wife and his daughter. His daughter was around eleven the last time I saw her. She was such a sweet little girl. I bet she _has_ grown quite a bit; she might even be taller than me."

"Everyone's taller than you, Syb," he joked, getting a playful glare in return. The tense mood was beginning to fade from the room. "You seem to speak of her very fondly."

"Yeah. I pretty much watched her grow up. She was just a toddler when I first came here. She was actually one of the first people I was introduced to. I remember she would waddle over to me all excited every time I came in with Urag. When she got older, I used to play with her because there aren't many kids around here. There was one other boy, but she didn't really like him; she said that he hated mages, but she'd always thought they were really nice. Durag's family is one of the few that don't hate the mages in Winterhold, and honestly, I'm really glad for that. It would've been terrible to be taken from a life of hatred just to be surrounded by more." She glanced over to Vilkas who seemed to be listening closely. "Sorry, I started rambling." She stood a began removing the leather straps and satchel from her robes. She kept the top robe on instead of just wearing the silkier one alone; even with the warmth from the hearth spreading throughout the entire inn, it was far too cold for it.

"Don't ever apologise for that, Starshine," he said.

She couldn't stop a smile from forming. It faltered for a moment. “Vilkas?”

         “Yeah?”

         “I'm so sorry for lying to you.”

         A moment passed before he sighed and replied, “Just please don't do it again, Syb.”

         Sybil could tell that he was tired, so she told him goodnight, laid down, and rolled over, wincing and nearly whimpering as pain shot up her right arm. She knew it'd be impossible to sleep comfortably like that, so she thought for a moment, trying to figure out what'd get rid of her pain long enough to let her sleep.

Finally, she remembered the sleeping potion Vilkas had given her. It might not actually get rid of the pain, but it'd put her in a deep enough sleep to not be disturbed by it. She conjured the small bottle and took a few sips.

A few seconds later, Sybil was out like a light.

***

Astrid stood before her, a Void-like darkness surrounding them.

"I'm sorry, Sybil, but it seems like you _will_ have to go to Volunruud. Meet with Amaund Motierre. Once you do, we shall see where this goes.”

_I don't want to go_ , she wanted to scream, _Why should I be the one to go? What's stopping you from doing it?_

But she knew better. All she did was nod, and obediently speak, "It will be done, Astrid."

"Remember, Sybil. Just because I'm allowing you to go does not mean that you serve the Night Mother above me. I'm still the Mistress of this sanctuary, and I will be treated as such. Understand?"

"I understand."

A devilish smile crept onto the matron's lips. A planning, calculating look entered her eyes. "Good girl."

The scene shifted. Sybil was back in the confines of the Night Mother's coffin, the bound corpse right in front of her. She wore the same smile Astrid did, mummified lips drawn back to further reveal rotted, crooked teeth. A putrid smell filled the space as the Night Mother began moving.

Sybil tried to scream, but no noise would leave her mouth.

The corpse's head straightened, bones creaking and cracking sickeningly. Its eyes began to glow a deep red, and the smile only seemed to grow as Sybil tried to escape the entombment.

She only stopped when the creature began speaking, its mouth moving but not seeming to form any actual words.

"So, you're the Listener. Well, that's hardly fair," it said in Festus' voice. A chill went down her spine. She clamped her hands over her ears, trying her hardest to drown out the voices.

But it didn't work in the slightest.

"If the Night Mother really spoke to you," it started again, this time mimicking Gabriella, "if you truly are the Listener, then your destiny was written in the Void. Astrid is right to fear your power..." _But why? Why should she fear me?_

"You may be the Listener, or you may be some raving lunatic hearing voices in their head. Either way, don't forget that Astrid is still your Mistress. Not the Night Mother." She shook her head as the Night Mother spoke the words Nazir had spoken when she'd turned in the latest contract.

Another voice entered her head, the Night Mother's true voice.

"Listen well, my child. Astrid will use you. She will betray you. She will be your end. You can no longer trust her. You can only put your trust in me," the voice rasped as the corpse's arms began straining against the ropes, the bones creaking as the rotted bonds snapped and fell away.

"No. You're wrong. Astrid would never betray me. She would never do that to anyone in the Family," Sybil insisted.

"The day is coming." Sybil began to struggle as cold, dead hands wrapped around her arms, squeezing tightly over the bruises and causing unimaginable pain. It seemed as if the Night Mother's hands were searing her skin, right through the fabric of her robes. She tried to cry out again, but just as before, no sound came; struggling was completely useless, for the Night Mother's strength was far greater than what any other corpse should possess. "You will be enlightened of Astrid's abuses. And then you will be mine, defiler!"

Sybil nearly jumped out of her skin when the Night Mother's voice suddenly changed again. It was Cicero's, screaming at her. The corpse began violently shaking her, screeching, "Debaser! Defiler!" over and over and over, until finally the door to the coffin was opened.

The Night Mother pushed her into a pitch-black void, causing her to fall forever and ever, screaming the entire time. The sound had finally escaped her throat, echoing endlessly.

Cicero's crazed laughter followed her descent, his voice now jovially singing, "Debaser! Defiler!"

Sybil thought she'd never stop falling, never stop screaming, never stop hearing the madman's voice.

But then another voice entered the fray. One that was not cold and cruel, was not harsh and accusatory. It was worried, so dreadfully worried.

"Sybil, wake up! Please wake up!"

"It's okay! It's just a nightmare!"

"I'm here; just wake up!"

Sybil sat bolt upright, gasping for air. She nearly collided with Vilkas, who was sitting on the edge of her bed. He seemed startled by her sudden awakening, eyes going wide with even more worry. He placed his hands on her shoulders and made her look at him.

"Sybil, are you alright? You were kicking and screaming in your sleep," he gently explained, waiting for her to catch her breath. She had tears rolling down her cheeks, which he moved to brush away.

All she could do to answer his question was miserably shake her head. She surprised him by burying her face in his chest; he wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort her by rubbing her back.

"Gods, Vilkas, it was so real," she sobbed. "I was so scared."

"It's alright now, Starshine. It was just a nightmare; it's over now," he assured. He felt her shake her head.

"No, it's not. It's never gonna be over, and it wasn't just a nightmare. Most of it was a memory," she murmured, shuddering as she remembered the Night Mother's warning in her dream. Once she'd gotten back to the sanctuary, she'd stayed as far away from the coffin as possible, taking the longer routes just to avoid walking past the Night Mother's chambers. But now she could just invade her dreams however she pleased? Sybil shuddered again as she realised that there was no staying away from the Night Mother.

However, her thoughts were completely derailed when Vilkas began humming. He was humming what sounded like a Nordic lullaby, and it was deep and comforting. She stopped shaking, having not even realized that she was doing it. She began to relax into him, closing her eyes. In that moment, she felt that the safest place in the world was right there in his arms, him just holding and humming to her.

_If he keeps doing stuff like this, I might just fall in love with him…_

"Do you do that often?" Vilkas asked softly after a moment. "Have such terrible nightmares that you kick and scream?"

She shook her head again. "Not often, no. But it has happened before. It happened a lot more when I was younger." She sighed, feeling utterly drained. "I haven't had a night terror that bad in over a year. I'm sorry that I woke you, Vilkas," she mumbled.

“Hey, don’t apologise for that, Starshine. Are you better now?” he asked, tilting her chin up so she was looking at him. He wiped another tear off her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She nodded weakly, unconvincingly. He was silent for a few seconds before he asked, “Sybil, did you have to deal with this all alone before?”

She tensed, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

_Yes…_

The last person she’d ever had help her deal with these things was Raina, but after she’d left, Sybil had had to learn to cope with it alone. And it certainly didn’t help when the night terrors got worse after her sister left. She thought about how reassuring it was to have someone else with her and not have to sit alone in the dark, crying herself back to sleep.

“Syb?”

“Vilkas, what was the song you were humming?” she asked, looking away from him. She didn’t want to have to talk about those especially lonely nights. Thankfully, he seemed to understand.

“A lullaby my mother used to sing to Farkas and me. It is one of the few things I actually remember about her,” he explained. “I don’t think Farkas remembers anything of her though.”

“Your mother? What else do you remember? If you don’t mind me asking,” she said, looking back up at him. He smiled softly, seeming to recall pleasant memories.

         “I remember she had the kindest blue eyes that’d shine when she'd look at us. She had long, black hair, darker than mine. When she'd laugh, it would fill the room with light and joy. It seemed like there was no darkness in the world when she did. Just her, Farkas, and I living happily in a little cottage in the woods.” He paused, his expression turning dark. “But that was before…”

         “Before?” she asked, curious. She knew from the change in his mood that it wasn't wise to pry, but curiosity just got the better of her.

         He gave a small sigh, his grip around her tightening just barely. “Before a band of necromancers stumbled upon our happy little family. I remember her putting up a good fight; I think she even managed to kill one of them before they knocked her out. And all the while, Farkas and I hid under the bed, too terrified to go help her…. They did some ritual, outside the house, and we heard her screaming… But still, we stayed in hiding, not brave enough to go help her. It was like we were just paralyzed, rooted to that spot. Even hours later, when Jergen found the ritual, and eventually us, we didn't want to leave…” He paused for a long moment, a horrid sadness in his eyes. Finally, his voice quiet, he said, “I understand, logically, that I couldn't have done anything to help her, but it really starts to weigh on me sometimes. I'll always be left to wonder if I could've done something that would have saved her instead of hiding like a coward.”

         Sybil looked up at him, and suddenly, a previous thought came back to her.

_ How can he be dealing with so much and never really show it? _

         “Vilkas,” she whispered, gently placing a hand on his cheek, “you were only a child. Your mother did what she could to protect you and your brother, even though it cost her her life. And I believe that even though it cost her everything, she'd be happy to know that you were safe. I think she'd be happy with the person you grew into. You weren't being a coward, Vilkas. You were a terrified child being protected by your mother.”

         He stared at her long enough for her to wonder if she'd said something way out of line, but the anxiety eased when he gave her a small melancholy smile. He pulled her into a tight hug, releasing a slow breath. “I’ve always tried to convince myself of that and never truly could. But hearing it from you, Syb…” She hugged him back, not needing to hear what he was going to say next. She was so happy and relieved to have finally been able to help  _ him _ for a change, instead of him always helping and worrying over her.

         When they pulled back, they both suddenly realised how close they were. She was caught up in his intense gaze, and he was enraptured in hers. The suddenly invasive want for him to kiss her made heat rush to her cheeks. She quickly turned away, trying to hide the red colour. But when she glanced at him, she noticed the ghost of a smile.

         “I'm sorry for bringing that up, Syb. About my mother. We should be getting back to sleep if you're feeling better.” He made a move to stand, but she grabbed his wrist just when he got to his feet. He looked down at her, his gaze questioning. “What's wrong?”

         “Um, Vilkas, if you wouldn’t mind, uh…w-would you…” She cursed herself for stumbling over her words. She closed her eyes and took a breath. “Would you please stay here, in this bed, with me? Please. I don't want to be alone after that nightmare,” she rushed to explain when he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

         “Last time, you threatened to kill me if I accidentally touched you, and that was in a bigger bed.”

         “Yes, I realise that, and I know I sound ridiculous, but I really don't want to be alone after that. Please, just sleep over here for tonight, and we can promise to never talk about it. Ever. It will be like it didn't even happen.” She pleaded with her eyes, silently praying that he wouldn't say he'd be just across the room or that he'd tell her just to wake him up if she needed him.

         But his eyes softened, and he gave a small nod. “You don't sound ridiculous, Starshine. You sound scared.”

***

         Sybil roused slightly, not opening her eyes. The sound of harsh wind pushing against the building filled her ears, giving her a sense of familiarity for her old hometown. She smiled as she remembered mornings she'd wake up to new blankets of snow over the College and canceled classes. Those days, she'd played in the snow for so long that her hands and feet went numb from the cold.

         But at that moment, she wasn't cold at all. Warmth surrounded her like a blanket and tempted her back into a deep sleep. She was about to let it take her when someone else in the bed shifted slightly. She furrowed her brow and slowly opened her eyes, coming face-to-face with a linen cloth shirt.

         It took her a moment to remember what had happened the night before and to register the arm draped across her waist. Gradually, she realised that she and Vilkas hadn't moved an inch while they slept, her curled against his chest and him holding her.

_ Well, I guess that explains why I feel so stiff… _

         She looked up and felt her eyes widen when she met groggy blue ones. He tilted his head to the side slightly, like a curious puppy.

         “How…?” His voice was gravelly and still filled with sleep. She personally thought it sounded hot as fuck.

         “I asked you to sleep over here last night, remember? I'd had a nightmare,” she whispered, not wanting to break the still quiet of the room. She could just barely hear some commotion beyond the door.

         “Oh, that's right,” he said, nodding and laying his head back down. He let out a sigh and seemed to be drifting back to sleep before she poked him. He opened his eyes again and raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

         “Get up, Dickhead. I smell food, and I'm really hungry. So move or I'll crawl over you.” As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly. The smell of fresh bread and stew was making her mouth water.

         He blinked, seeming to take a second to process her words before the shadow of a smirk played on his lips. “What if I wanted to stay here and keep holding you?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

         Although Sybil knew he was just messing with her, she couldn't stop the heat that bloomed on her cheeks.

         Vilkas gave a short chuckle before saying, “Knew I could make you blush.” She glared up at him, though half-heartedly.

         “Quit fucking around and move. I  _ will _ kick you out of this bed. I swear it.”

         “So scary,” he quipped, but he did get up out of the bed, letting her up as well. She began fastening all the straps back on her rumpled robes, trying to smooth out all the wrinkles. She glanced over to see that Vilkas already had all of his armour back on.

         Sybil conjured her brush and ran it through her hair as she asked, “How did you do that so quickly?”

         “Years of practice,” he answered, picking up his greatsword. Her stomach growled again as she put up her hair, making her blush out of embarrassment. Vilkas cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you really that hungry?”

         “I was too tired to eat supper last night, so yeah.”

         “Alright, come on. Let's go get you some food,” Vilkas said, playfully hurrying her out the door.

***

         Vilkas followed Sybil out of the inn, the bitter cold wind biting at him. Snow flurried around wildly, making visibility terrible. He could just barely make out the shadowy forms of people moving around, the occasional torch lighting the person in gold.

         He began wondering how Sybil had lived in the town for so long.

         “Are you sure we shouldn't wait until the wind dies down? I'd rather not get blown off a cliff,” he said over the wind.

         “It's only going to get worse. We should go now while it's tolerable.”

_ She calls this tolerable?! _

         They trudged through the snow-covered streets with some difficulty. Vilkas ended up running right into a post, not ever having seen it; Sybil had laughed wildly at him.

         “Oh my gods, you have no idea how funny it is seeing that happen to someone else!” she’d managed through her fit of giggles. He shook his head, his hands cradling his throbbing nose. When he brought them away from his face, he could see bright red blood on his fingertips.

         “Hey, you alright?” she asked, having stopped laughing. She was looking at him with concern.

         “Oh, yeah,” he said dismissively. “I think I cut my nose.”

         “Mm. I know running into that thing hurts. Did you know I actually knocked myself out with it once?”

         Vilkas pressed against the cut on the bridge of his nose to get it to stop bleeding as they started walking again. “How in Oblivion did you manage that?” he asked, chuckling as he imagined it.

         “I lost track of time, ended up being late to class, and literally  _ sprinted  _ into that post. Knocked myself unconscious and woke up hours later with a very worried looking Urag standing over me. I ended up getting really sick because  _ no one _ thought to check on the unconscious person in the street; I was lucky Urag actually came to look for me.” She was quiet for only a beat. “The healers tried not to let on too much but I knew I came really close to dying. I was fifteen at the time, I believe.”

         Vilkas could see the immense, dark structure that was the College beginning to loom out of the shadows. “Paarthurnax said something about you being sick all the time when you were younger.”

         Sybil nodded. “Yeah. One tends to get sick a lot easier when their father doesn't let them have much food or sun,” she muttered, not looking at him.

         Vilkas was taken aback by her words. He knew Sybil's father had been an asshole from what Paarthurnax had said, but he never thought he'd have been despicable enough to starve his own child. “Syb-”

         “I'll heal that cut when we get into the College,” she said suddenly, obviously wanting to change the subject. He simply nodded as the began ascending a sloped bridge, coming to a stop at the top. A young, High-Elf woman stood there, watching them guardedly.

         “State your names and your business here at the College of Winterhold,” the High-Elf said, sounding almost rehearsed.

         Vilkas was about to speak before Sybil beat him to it. “My name is Sibylline Aurora Bordeaux. I must speak with Urag gro-Shub. It is of utmost importance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zzzzzzzz zzzzzzzz zzzzzzzz


	26. On The Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I ended up playing with a concept and the chapter rapidly went from, like, 2000 words to 8000 words. Please leave feedback. Please enjoy the long chapter, Lovelies!!!

**** **_Middas, 9_ ** **_th_ ** **_day of Last Seed, 4E 201 (Mid-Morning)_ **

         

         The High Elf’s eyes widened, looking Sybil up and down. “Red hair, green eyes, thin build…”

         Vilkas shared a worried glance with Sybil. The woman's demeanor didn't seem promising.

         “You are... _the_ Sybilline, right? The one who was accused of plotting to murder Savos Aren and was later banished?”

         “Honey, not to seem rude or anything, but how many Sybilline Aurora Bordeauxs that look like me actually went to the College? Not many, I'd imagine,” Sybil snarked, her eye twitching in annoyance. The other woman's words must've reopened old wounds. “Yes, it's me. The one and only.”

         “The College has been waiting for your return,” the High Elf said, ignoring Sybil's tone.

         “What?” Sybil asked softly, all irritation replaced with surprise.

         “My name is Faralda. I wasn't around when you were here, but one of my jobs out here is to wait for you and take you to Tolfdir when you returned. Please, follow me, miss.” Faralda turned to walk away but looked back when the shocked-to-her-core woman didn't follow. She watched Sybil and Vilkas expectantly.

         Vilkas nudged Sybil softly, getting her attention. “It's okay, Syb,” he said quietly, carefully placing an encouraging hand on her back. “Go on. I'll be right behind you.” He knew she had fully expected to be turned away and the fact that things went completely opposite had her shaken. And he also knew she was terrified of returning to the home she was forced from.

         After a few hesitant steps, she seemed to recover a bit, putting more confidence into her movements as she followed Faralda. Sybil glanced back every few seconds to check if Vilkas was following, and every time, he just smiled at her.

         When they reached the middle of the high, treacherous bridge, Sybil quickly grabbed his hand, easily lacing her fingers through his. It had caught him off guard, but he let her do it, allowing her to have every shred of comfort she needed.

         When they neared the courtyard, she was practically buzzing, thrumming with...something. Whether it was fear, excitement, or both, he couldn't tell. Her eyes were wide, looking around wildly, taking in every detail of her old home with a big smile, and it honestly made Vilkas feel so ridiculously happy for her.

         The trio entered through the large, dark doors that seemed to open at just their approach. He had expected a loud noise as the doors shut on their own as well but instead heard only a soft thud.

         “I guess it's not a mages’ college for nothing,” he whispered, catching a quick smile from Sybil.

         “Yeah, a lot of the things here are enchanted,” she whispered back, quieting when Faralda spoke up again. An older, important looking mage walked through the gates as she did.

         “Welcome back to the Hall of the Elements, Miss Sybilline. The College is honoured to have you back,” Faralda announced and _bowed_ to Sybil. Actually bowed, before leaving to return to her post. Sybil squeezed his hand, and he could tell that she was on the brink of tears.

         “It has been too long, Sybilline,” the mage said, his voice aged. They could just barely see a smile from under the hood of the robes. “It is so good to see you back.”

         “Tolfdir, please tell me I'm not dreaming this.”

         “You aren't, child. The College welcomes you back with open arms and hopes you will forgive us for how we wronged you. We are all _so_ sorry. We have paid for your loss dearly.”

         “How?” she asked, confused. She unlaced her fingers from his, wiping away her unshed tears. “What do you mean?”

         “We mustn't discuss it here. Come now,” the elder mage said, leading them up and up sets of stairs, finally emerging into a large room.

         The circular room was breathtaking. Small balls of light lit up the room, hovering around a colourful garden. A white-barked tree twisted up in the middle of it, surrounded by all sorts of flowers. There were even butterflies and torchbugs flitting around. He only caught a glimpse of the sleeping quarters seemingly hidden behind the overflowing garden.

         “We may want to discuss this in private, Sybilline, just between us,” Tolfdir said, sending a pointed look to Vilkas.

         “That's okay,” he started. “I can just wait-”

         “No!” she nearly yelled, grabbing his hand again. _Why does she keep doing that?_ “No. He stays. I need him here.”

         He tried not to let that last little declaration go to his head, he definitely tried, but he didn't succeed.

         “Okay. That's alright, too,” Tolfdir said in almost a soothing tone, sensing her discomfort and panic. “Just pull up an extra chair.”

         Once they were all seated at a small round table, Tolfdir began speaking.

         “Not long after you were banished, wrongly so, we found a relic. A huge orb called the Eye of Magnus which radiated unstable magical energy. Ancano found a way to control it and went mad with its power. Savos was the first to die.” He paused to let the information sink in. “Then Mirabelle. And several more in the battle that lasted days-”

         “What about Urag? Is Urag alive? Is he alright?” she asked in rapid succession, panic rising in her voice.

         “Yes, child. You mustn't worry about him. The stubborn old Orc is still alive and well.” Sybil breathed a sigh of relief, and without thinking, Vilkas reached under the table to quickly squeeze her hand before releasing it just as fast. She smiled at him, seeming to calm her jumpiness a bit. “After Ancano was defeated, we found evidence that he had been planning something all along, but the Eye was what really drove him to it. Thank the divines that we were able to get the horrid thing out of here. It was fascinating but altogether too dangerous.”

         “In the aftermath, since I was the highest-ranking mage left, I appointed myself Archmage. Urag approached me and pled that your false sentencing be repealed. I announced that your banishment was null; he said he wrote to you but he had no sure way of knowing where you'd ended up or if the letter had ever reached you.”

         “It didn't,” she said quietly. She looked down at her hands and whispered, “All this time and I could've come back…”

         “What matters is that you're back now. And I have an important offer I have been wanting to make to you for the last five years.” Tolfdir continued when Sybil looked back up. “I want to offer you the position of Archmage.”

         They both stared at him, dumbfounded. “Archmage?” she whispered.

         “Yes. I was never really cut out for this position, Sybilline. But the first day I saw you in my class, I knew you were going to do great things. At only fifteen, you knew things not even Savos did. I always had a feeling you would end up with this position.” He watched her, expecting an answer.

         When Vilkas realised she had begun to panic under Tolfdir’s gaze, he did what she had done earlier. He laced his fingers through hers and gave an encouraging squeeze, trying to calm her down.

         “U-um, well, I-I,” she stuttered off before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't.”

         Vilkas and Tolfdir were both shocked. He had expected her to accept the offer.

         “Sybil,” he started, “you know that it's okay if you take the offer, right?”

         “No, Vilkas, it's not.” She looked to Tolfdir. “Thank you for the offer, but I just can't accept. I have so much going on right now, so many responsibilities, that I just wouldn't be able to focus everything I have on the College. I'm more of a target now than ever and doing anything that could draw attention to myself would put people that I care too much for in danger. And I can't let that happen. So, no. I do not accept the position.”

         “I understand completely, Sybilline. But please know that the offer will always be open, should you change your mind,” Tolfdir explained.

         “Thank you, but please don't let that stop you from giving it to someone else, someone better suited.”

         “I believe that someone will be very difficult to find,” he said with a half-smile. She and Vilkas stood to leave. “And, Sybilline, always know that you have a refuge here. If you are ever in danger, don't be afraid to come to the College for help.”

         Sybil smiled at Tolfdir. “Thank you, Archmage,” she said with a bow, smacking Vilkas’ arm to do the same. They left quickly, Sybil leading him to another staircase.

         She swayed lightly after the door closed. “Oh gods, I need to sit a minute,” she muttered, plopping down on one of the steps. She stared at her hands, trying to take deep breaths, hardly noticing Vilkas sit down next to her. After she calmed her racing heart, she glanced at him. “Thank you for letting me hold your hand, and...sorry. I was just so absolutely terrified and completely ecstatic at the same time that I needed something to ground me.”

         “It's okay. I'm here for you anytime you need me,” he said quietly, getting a small smile from her. “Sybil, what’s the real reason why you didn't accept?”

         “Those were real reasons,” she defended, furrowing her brow.

         “But there was something else, wasn't there? You know he would've waited for this dragon problem to get sorted. You know we could find a way to protect the kids. Here, you would be safe from both the purge on Casters and the bandits. So, what was the real reason?”

         She was silent for a long moment, not looking at him. “I didn't accept because… Vilkas, it seems that everything I do just pulls me farther and farther away from the children. And I don't want to be away from them. And I don't want to be away from...from you. You all would be in Whiterun, because there is no way I'd ever move the children out here, and I would just be alone here, playing with potions and spells.” She finally looked at him, her eyes mesmerising. “I don't want to be far away, Vilkas.”

         He slowly nodded, smiling slightly at her words. “Okay, okay. I understand.” He waited for a moment, both of them looking down the dim, curving staircase. “Are you feeling better? I know this has to be difficult for you.”

         “I am, and it is. I never thought they'd let me back in so easily, welcome me back, _apologise_ . I mean, I knew there was the smallest possibility, but I never actually entertained the idea. And Faralda _bowed_ to me! You saw that too, right? They're only supposed to do that to the Master Wizard and the Archmage!” She smiled to herself. “It's amazing. It's terrifying, but it's amazing.”

         Her smile soon slipped. “But it kind of hurts at the same time, knowing now that I could've returned this entire time. Could've saved myself a lot of pain if I'd just had the courage to come back to Winterhold before now,” she mumbled sadly. “But, then again, if I had come back, I probably wouldn't have done as much as I have. I wouldn't have met all the great people in my life: Bryn, the children, you.” She bumped him playfully with her shoulder before quickly withdrawing in pain. “Damn, that was stupid,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

         “Shit. I forgot we needed to get you to a healer,” he said, standing to help her up.

         “I'm alright. We don't need to find a real healer to help with just some silly bruises. Urag knows some restoration magic. You might want to let him heal your nose as well; I wouldn't want to end up blowing half your face off,” she spoke as she took his hand, letting him help her stand.

         “Excuse me?”

         “I've never healed anyone else before. Restoration isn't exactly my forte, and it can be very dangerous in untrained hands. Could blow up in you face and double the damage. In this case, it could literally _blow up_ your face,” she explained with a small smirk. “I'd hate for that to happen. You have such a nice face.” She started down the stairs.

         “Um, thanks. I never realised healing magic was so...unhealthy sometimes?”

         “It is quite the temperamental school of magic,” she said as she got to the bottom of the staircase. They emerged into another large, circular room.

         Completely stocked bookcases lined every wall. There was a sitting area in the center, and beyond that, a tall counter. An old Orc stood behind it.

         He didn't look up from the book he was reading when they approached, only gruffly said, “You are now in the Arcanaeum, of which I am in charge. You might as well call it my own little plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcanaeum and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Now, is there anything I can help you with?”

          _Well, he seems pleasant..._

         “Oh, I don't know,” Sybil started casually, leaning on the counter. “There are several things you could help us with. First, would you mind healing a couple wounds?”

         “What are you-” The Orc’s words died in his throat when he looked up. The biggest smile Vilkas had ever seen splashed across his face. He rushed around the counter, catching Sybil in a crushing hug. “Sybilline, it is so good to see you back!”

         “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Urag! My arms! You're hurting me!” Sybil flailed helplessly before the librarian released, his smile slightly marred by concern as he looked her up and down. Sybil was rubbing her arms, a pained smile on her face.

         “What's wrong, dear girl?”

         “I needed you to...heal my arms...not crush them,” she said through clenched teeth. Tears had sprung to her eyes.

         “Syb, you gonna be okay?” he asked, edging closer to the woman.

         She could only nod her head as Urag ushered her over to a chair, asking what happened.

         “Well, someone manhandled me and left some pretty extensive bruising,” she explained quickly, starting to roll up a sleeve. Urag turned on Vilkas, a glare that could kill causing him to flinch. The Orc was a good few inches taller than him, and Vilkas didn't much feel like pissing him off.

         He held his hands up defensively. “Woah, woah. Not me. I'd never hurt her.”

         “It wasn't him, Urag. Don't worry,” Sybil said, catching the Orc’s attention again. Despite her words, Urag still watched him, untrusting.

         Sybil had her sleeve rolled up and sucked in a quick breath when she saw the bruises.

         “Vilkas,” she whispered, “come here.” When he moved around Urag, he saw what had shocked her. The bruises were even worse, and now there was a very, very distinct handprint in them, long, unnaturally thin fingers wrapping completely around her arm. She hurriedly rolled the other sleeve up to reveal the same thing.

         “Sybilline, those look like burns. I thought you told me that you couldn't get burned.” Urag examined the wounds closely.

         “I can't,” she whispered, looking like she was going to throw up.

         “They weren't like that last night. The burns are new,” Vilkas told the Orc, crouching next to Sybil as he spoke. “Gods, Syb, doesn't that hurt with your robes constantly touching it?”

         “Y-yes but I had thought they'd just gotten a little more sensitive. I hadn't even thought to check them this morning,” she said quietly, still staring at the marred skin in disbelief. She looked terrified and he knew there was something she wasn't telling him. But he didn't bring it up, remembering what she had told him, asked of him, the previous night. Don't ask anymore questions.

         Urag sighed, drawing their attention as he stood to his full height. “I can try to heal it as best as I can, but those burns will most likely leave scars.”

         Sybil leaned forward in her chair, her head in her hands. She shook her head, and he swore he heard her whisper, “Gods damn it all, I'll never be able to get away from her,” before she sat back up, looking on the verge of tears. “I don't care. Just do it.”

         Vilkas stayed crouched by her side as Urag moved a bit closer to her, his hands coming to hover a few inches above the bruising and burns. When golden light sprang from his large hands, the last thing either of them had expected her to do was cry out in pain seconds later. He immediately stopped, the light dying as he asked what was wrong.

         She bit her lip hard, taking a deep breath before responding. “That hurt like an absolute bitch.”

         “I don't understand why. The skin was beginning to heal,” Urag said in confusion and concern.

         She took another deep breath and seemed to steel herself. “Just get it over with.”

         “Sybilline-”

         “Please. The sooner we get this done, the sooner it'll stop hurting.”

         The golden light reappeared, and after a few seconds, her hand shot out for Vilkas’ and she held onto him like a lifeline. He let her squeeze as hard as she needed to, didn't care about the pain because he knew she was in even more. She was biting her lip so hard that it was beginning to bleed and tears were pouring down her cheeks. He whispered words of comfort to her, telling her it would be alright, that she was doing great, it was almost over.

         Finally, the golden light faded again and she gasped for air, sobbing in pain. His gloved hand came to wipe away the tears on her cheeks and the blood on her lips. “It's okay,” he soothed. “It's alright.”

         “Oh, fuck, that was the worst pain I have _ever_ felt in my life. Gods, I don't know if I can take the other arm,” she breathed, still clutching Vilkas’ hand.

         “I am so sorry, Sybilline. It had to have been something with those burns. And I was right, they did leave scars,” Urag said, stepping back to give her some space. She and Vilkas both looked at the red marks on her arm. They still had the distinct shape of a hand, but there were bits of clear skin between the scars. It made the hand look skeletal. “I'll give you a minute before we do the other one. Just let me know when you're ready.”

         She tried to pull down the sleeve on her healed arm but her hands were trembling too much. Vilkas wordlessly reached over and did it for her, earning an appreciative smile and a small, “Thank you.” She didn't hesitate to put her hand back in his before giving a weak laugh. “I was squeezing pretty hard; I'm surprised I didn't break your hand.”

         Vilkas smiled at her. “I'm not too sure you didn't, Starshine,” he teased, getting another laugh from her. Then his smile faltered. “Those burns looked so painful.”

         “Not half as painful as the healing, trust me,” she said dryly. She watched him for a second, her expression unreadable as she spoke again, impossibly quiet. “I don't think it was just a dream last night, Vilkas.”

         He'd wanted to know what she'd meant, but she had already turned to Urag, telling him she was ready.

         They went through the same painful process again. Vilkas’ heart clenched when he heard her whimper pitifully after the light died away. He rolled her other sleeve down for her as she caught her breath before setting a comforting hand on her back.

         “You need…” she started, gesturing to his face when she couldn't manage to finish the sentence.

         He shook his head at her. “No, Syb. Don't worry about that. It's just a little cut; nothing to fuss over with magic.”

         She looked like she was going to argue but seemed to change her mind, too exhausted to put up a fight. “I need a nap,” she said suddenly, making him and Urag both laugh.

         “Yeah, you certainly deserve one, Sybilline,” the Orc said. “I'm sorry again. Truly, I am.”

         “Couldn't help it,” she muttered, obviously losing energy fast. She was already fighting to keep her eyes open. “Vilkas, will you tell him what we came here for? I'm too tired to think straight.”

         “We needed to know if you have an Elder Scroll or if you know the whereabouts of one,” Vilkas explained.

         Urag looked shocked. “An Elder Scroll?! Why on Earth would you two need an Elder Scroll?”

         “Dragonborn,” Sybil mumbled so quietly they hardly heard her.

         “Yeah, you two have a _lot_ of catching up to do later, but basically, she's the Dragonborn, has to stop Alduin, and save the world. We need an Elder Scroll so she can learn a shout to make said dragon drop right out of the sky.”

         The Orc stared at the half-asleep mage in disbelief. “She's the one the Greybeards called?”

         “Wish I wasn't,” she slurred.

         “Yep, it was her.”

         “By the gods, I was right,” Urag breathed in surprise before collecting himself. “The College doesn't have an Elder Scroll unfortunately. But I have a couple of books that may point you in the right direction. I'll go fetch them now.”

         While Urag hurried off to the other side of the room, searching the shelves, Vilkas helped Sybil out of the chair, guiding her to a table. “C’mon, Syb. Let's get you somewhere you can put your head down.” Once he got her seated again, she laid her head down on the table, seeming to already be drifting asleep. “Are you cold? Do you need anything?”

         She shook her head slightly. Her eyes fluttered open as she momentarily became a little more lucid. “Are you sure you've got this handled on your own? I can try to stay awake to help.”

         “No, no. Don't you worry about that, Starshine. I've got it.”

         “You're the best, Dickhead,” she said as she quickly dropped off into sleep. He smiled down at her while he moved a lock of hair away from her face, jumping when someone cleared their throat behind him.

         He turned to see Urag watching him with a suspicious glint in his eyes. Vilkas coughed uncomfortably before muttering, “Sorry.”

         Urag held out two pristine books to him, one larger than the other. “The books. About the Elder Scrolls. Read them and come to me if you have any questions.” He turned and walked away, Vilkas breathing a sigh of relief as he looked down at the books.

         “I can't believe a librarian is making me nervous,” he said to himself, sitting across from his peacefully sleeping friend. He decided it best to tackle the larger book first, carefully handling it as he read. He didn't want to risk harming the book in some way and meeting the wrath of Urag. Vilkas would occasionally glance up from his reading to see the Orc busily moving from shelf to shelf.

         Once he'd gotten to about the middle of the book, Urag gently set down a colourful stack of books next to Sybil. Vilkas raised an eyebrow at him.

         “Over the years, I've kept an eye out for books she'd probably want to read when she got back. I guess it gave me hope that she would come back at all, ya know?” Vilkas nodded, smiling at the older man. Urag watched Sybil for a moment before speaking again. “Reminds me of the times she'd fall asleep in here when she was young. She'd read until late at night and I'd end up having to take her to her room. I'd always leave the book on her nightstand just in case she woke up with a bad dream and needed something to take her mind off it. She was always a book worm, ever since I found her,” the Orc reminisced fondly.

         “Found her?” Vilkas asked curiously, setting the book down.

         “I had made a trip out to Windhelm to speak to the court mage. After I had left the palace, I was walking through one of the alleys in the Grey District when she ran into me. Literally. She had been running away from two old Nord men. They said she was a ‘freak of nature that deserved to be put down’ and tried to threaten me into handing her over. Like I'd ever hand a child over to someone who'd been shouting death threats just moments before,” he scoffed. “I was tempted to murder them before a guard stepped in and shut them up.”

         “She was all by herself on the streets of Windhelm?”

         Urag nodded. “And was really sick as well. She told me she had nowhere to go, and I wasn't very eager to leave her in the cold so I took her in. Brought her back here and practically raised her myself. I didn't know much about her earlier childhood, still don't actually, but I know she had it rough. For the longest time, she was terrified of being left alone. She'd flinch whenever someone would speak to her or if there was a loud noise. She had nightmares constantly. It was heartbreaking to see.”

         Vilkas sighed, shaking his head. “You know what she is, don't you?”

         “Yeah, and it's caused a lot of hell for her over the years.”

         “Have you heard what they're doing to Casters now?”

         “Murdering them? Yeah, I've heard. And it's fucking ridiculous and wrong,” Urag spat. “Casters haven't caused _any_ trouble for decades, maybe even centuries. There is no sense or reason behind these witch hunts.” The Orc paused for a moment, looking over Vilkas with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do you have a problem with what she is, boy? Because if you do-”

         “What? No, no, no! I don't have a single problem with it. Sir, I was raised to look at _who_ a person is, not _what_ they are. The fact that she's a Caster doesn't matter to me at all! Well, it does but that's only because I'm constantly worried about her being clapped in irons and executed...again,” he finished awkwardly.

         “Again?”

         Vilkas sighed, glancing at the still unconscious redhead. “Yes, again. There was an...incident when we went to Riften. They threw her in the dungeons, and a friend of hers and I had to figure out a way to get her out. She came really close to being drowned in the canal, but luckily her friend was good with disguises and I was good at knocking out would-be executioners. I kind of felt bad for it but it was the only way Brynjolf could pose as the executioner to free her.”

         “Sounds like you went through a lot of trouble to help her.”

         “I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant she was safe,” he said, mostly to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched his friend.

         “Would you ever hurt her?” The Orc’s sudden question made Vilkas’ head snap up to look at him.

         “What? Of course not! I care for her, almost unhealthily so. I lov-” Vilkas stopped short, realising what he'd almost confessed as a knowing smile crept across Urag’s face.

         “Just testing you, kid. I could tell from the way you were looking at her. Don't worry, secret’s safe with me,” he said simply before turning to walk away. Vilkas breathed a sigh of relief.

         “Oh, but boy?”

         “Yes, sir?” Vilkas watched the the older man warily as he turned.

         “If you ever do hurt her, know that I will kill you. Rip you apart. With my bare hands,” Urag assured. “I will hunt you down and end you.”

         “Sir, I'll be honest with you. If I ever hurt her, you won't have to hunt me down. I'll come straight to you.” He picked his book up to avoid the other man’s odd look but was unable to actually focus on the words for a few moments.

         He was too busy trying to get the Beast to calm down. The threat from Urag, such a simple thing, had somehow managed to rile it up. He closed his eyes and tried counting to calm himself.

          _Dammit, it was just him being protective. Chill the fuck out…._

         Vilkas snapped the book shut and stood as he pushed his chair out. “Urag, I need to step out for a moment,” he said, looking to the librarian. “Is there somewhere I could go to get some fresh air?”

         Urag fixed him with a curious look but nodded. “Follow the stairs all the way to the top; it'll take you out to the roof. Everything alright?”

         “Just fine,” Vilkas called over his shoulder, clenching and unclenching his fist as he hurriedly walked away.

          _Could you stop acting like a little pissbaby for two seconds?!_ he thought angrily at the Beast. _I've got more important shit to do than cater to your sudden rages!_

         He could feel the Beast roil so furiously that it caused his heart to skip a few beats. He had to lean against the wall in the staircase, almost to the top, and take several deep breaths, focusing solely on not transforming.

         “Not here,” he whispered to himself through gritted teeth. “Not with Sybil so close…” He finally managed to collect himself enough that he could make it through the doorway and into crisp, calm air.

         Part of him had been expecting the wicked snow storm from earlier, but snowflakes gently drifted through the air, no wildness to them. However, when he looked off into the distance, he could see that the weather was still raging; it was just avoiding the College.

         He didn't have the focus to try to work out the weather dynamics of the College, mostly because of the pure _rage_ pulsing through his veins. He started pacing along the walkway, attempting to expel the excessive anger.

          _Why? Why right now? Why because of Urag’s harmless threat? I know you have a habit of being a whiny bitch sometimes, Beast, but_ why _now?_

         He continued pacing, became completely withdrawn from everything around him. He just tried to focus on calming the Beast, on quelling the rage.

          _Come on now, I'm sorry for calling you a whiny bitch but you have to work with me here. I can't just hand over the reigns whenever you get angry. You could make me hurt Sybil, and that can't happen….never….please don't let it happen…._

“Vilkas?” A quiet, hesitant voice snapped him from his thoughts and put a halt to his furious pacing. He turned to find Sybil watching him, bright eyes filled with worry. “Vilkas, are you alright?” she asked slowly, still quiet.

         “I thought you were asleep.” He avoided her question and walked over to the stone railing, looking down into the courtyard and trying to put some distance between himself and Sybil. Her unexpected presence had momentarily quieted the Beast, but he could feel it starting up again, making his skin crawl and burn with the need to be released. It wanted her, he knew, but he wasn't going to let it have her, hurt her.

         Vilkas gripped the railing impossibly tight, tapping his foot incessantly. Where was Kodlak when he needed him? The harbinger always knew what to do with the episodes, always knew how to calm the sudden rages.

         “I was asleep, but Urag woke me, said he was worried about you because you'd stormed off. What's wrong?” She waited for a moment and sighed when no answer came. “Come on, Dickhead. Tell me what's up or I'll kick your ass.”

         Vilkas gripped the railing even tighter. He knew she was just joking, but the Beast had taken it as a direct threat and was roaring to get out. It took every ounce of strength and focus to not let it explode on her.

          _Stopitstopitstopitstopit!! You'll hurt her, you're gonna hurt her…._

“Just go away, Sybil,” he managed to choke out, unable to look at her.

         “No,” she said firmly, stubbornly. _Gods, now is not the time to be stubborn Syb…_ “Vilkas, I am not leaving until you tell me what's wrong. How do we fix whatever's going on? What do you need?” He could hear her getting closer and tensed, forcing himself not to lash out at her.

         He stayed silent for several more minutes.

         “Vilkas-”

         “Tell me why the weather is different here. O-or tell me about the other enchantments around the College,” he blurted, desperate for something to take his mind away from the Beast. Desperate for her to stop asking what was wrong, for her to stop making him think about it.

         She hesitantly answered him, confusion first tinging her tone. “There is a magical force field around the College. It's there to keep out the bad weather so that classes and everything else could continue running smoothly, but it's also there for security measures. I can remember times when it would falter or some higher-up mage would lower it for the night, and we would wake up to several feet of fresh snow on the ground. The teachers would cancel classes and I would just play out in the courtyard for hours on end.” Vilkas managed to smile shakily at her reminiscent tone, at the smile he could hear in her voice. But he soon realised that distraction wouldn't be enough to calm him.

         “The doors around the College open only for certain people and never slam shut. The baths never go cold. The beds make themselves,” she continued, speaking quietly, soothingly. She sounded like she was getting closer and he tensed again, closing his eyes tight and trying to take deep breaths through clenched teeth. “The books can put themselves away, but Urag usually does that himself.” Closer. “The dishes wash themselves.” _Closer_. “The pillows are charmed so that students wake up at precisely six every morning.” Right behind him. “The infirmary is always spotless, self-cleaning after every patient.”

         Vilkas stood stock still as he felt thin arms wrap around his torso. He could feel her pressed against him, her cheek against his back.

         “Vilkas,” she started at whisper volume, “you're wound tighter than a spring and you're really worrying me. Please, just tell me what's wrong. I can help you; I can fix it. I just need to know what's wrong.”

         It took him a moment before he could finally answer. “The Beast,” he nearly snarled out, quickly reigning himself in when he heard her quietly gasp and flinch. “It...it gets overly agitated sometimes. Like anything could set it off to start trying to claw its way out. Even earlier, what you said ticked it off.”

         “Earlier? When I threatened you? I was just joking, Vilkas, I swear.”

         “I know that, Syb. I know that, but it doesn't. It overreacts to every little threat, every movement towards me,” he said quickly, his heart stuttering as the Beast surged again, fighting to get to Sybil, fighting to get her away.

         “Is it alright that I'm right here?” she asked cautiously, surely feeling him tense beneath her again.

         “Honestly, it's taking everything I have not to let it pounce on you, Syb,” he almost growled through clenched teeth.

         “I can go, if that's what you need, Vilkas,” she said calmly, already removing her arms from around him. He stopped her with one arm, shaking his head.

         “As much as I wish you were as far away from me as possible, I really don't want you to go. Incredibly selfish of me, I know. Putting you in harm's way like this. But I really need you here right now, Starshine,” he said, keeping the tremble from his voice.

         “I'm not in danger, Vilkas. Not with you. Never with you. I know you'd never be able to hurt me,” she spoke softly, so quietly that he could barely hear her. “And you do so much for me all the time. It is the least I could do to help you through this.”

         They both stayed quiet for several moments, the roiling tension in his chest painful and ever present.

         “I'm not scared of you. You know that, right?”

         “Wish I could believe that, Syb.”

         “You can. You just told me that the Beast is trying its damndest to pounce on me, to kill me. Someone who was scared probably would've run away screaming. But I'm just going to hold to you tighter.” She emphasised her words by securing her arms even tighter around his waist. “I care too much to be scared of you, Vilkas.”

         They both went silent for many more minutes. It was her words that eventually calmed him down, rolling around in his head.

          _Not scared of you….just hold tighter….I care too much…._

He was finally able to relax after a little longer, the burning fire in his chest that made his heart panic nothing more that a dull ache. He let out a deep breath, numbly realising he was still holding Sybil's arms with one of his. He let the railing loose, his hand painfully sore. He placed both of his hands on hers, straightening a bit.

         “Better?” she asked quietly.

         “Much,” he whispered. “Thank you, Sybil.”

         “Vilkas, does that happen often?”

         “Usually every few months, but they've been getting closer together recently. And more difficult to control.” He could tell his own voice sounded a little hoarse. “Just another lousy side of the curse.”

         She was quiet for a short time, still keeping her arms around him. “Is that what happened when we were ambushed by the bandits?”

         He shook his head. “No. That was because I saw you get hurt and it pissed me off so badly that I lost control.”

         “Oh,” was all she said.

         He felt _exhausted_ now, having to hold to the railing again when his heart momentarily pounded in odd rhythms. That always happened after an episode; his heart would beat weirdly and take a bit to calm down, but it felt so much worse.

         “Alright, Vilkas?” she asked, concern marring her soothing voice. He took a second to calm himself again before turning in her embrace, hugging her right back and setting his forehead against hers.

         “I thought worrying was my job,” he quipped, trying to get her to smile. She didn't say anything, only watched him with worried eyes. “I'm alright now, Starshine.”

         “Promise?”

         “I promise.”

         “Do you also promise to tell me when this happens again? I don't want you to have to deal with it alone,” she spoke quietly, her eyes never leaving his.

         He couldn't help but smile. “I promise.”

         She finally smiled back at him. “Good. You better.”

         They stood in silence for another moment, just watching each other, Vilkas’ heart stuttering for an entirely different reason than before.

         Sybil stood on her toes to get closer, her eyes starting to slip closed, and he leaned in, not even thinking. Their lips were almost touching-

         -and the door to the staircase opened, startling them both and causing them to jump apart. Sybil was looking down, but he could tell that she was blushing furiously.

         He silently admonished himself for almost giving in to kissing her.

         _Can't get that close again….you're dangerous, could hurt her….you really should just go back to Whiterun and stay-_

_I'm not in danger, Vilkas. Not with you….I'm not scared of you….I care too much to be scared of you…._

         Her words rolled around in his head again, completely distracting him from the fact that Urag was walking over to them. If she really _wasn't_ scared of him, which he still had his doubts about, maybe they could….just maybe….

         “Am I interrupting something?” Urag asked cautiously, casting a guarded glance at Vilkas.

         “No, not at all,” Sybil said quickly, slyly nudging Vilkas to agree with her.

         “Okay,” the Orc said slowly, completely disbelieving. “I just wanted to check to see if you two were alright. What was the matter with you, boy?”

         “He has a hard time staying indoors for too long,” Sybil quickly interjected when she realised Vilkas didn't want to answer truthfully. “They make him feel trapped, panicky. Isn't that right, Vilkas?”

         “Y-yes,” he lied, nodding.

         “He's better now though.”

         “Much better, yes.”

         The Orc looked between the pair for several seconds before slowly nodding. “If you say so.”

         They both knew that Urag was aware they were lying but felt relieved when he said nothing more on the subject. Vilkas sent Sybil a silent, appreciative look, getting a smile in return.

         “I'll just be heading back to the Arcanaeum then, now that I know you're safe,” Urag said, watching them suspiciously before turning and heading back to the staircase. Once they were alone again, Sybil cleared her throat.

         “What was it that set you off, Vilkas?” she asked, not looking directly at him.

         “It was nothing, Syb.”

         “Liar.”

         “Seriously, it was nothing! I told you that the most harmless things could set it off. Someone breathing the wrong way could've even pissed me off. It was nothing, I promise,” he assured.

         “Okay, fine. I suppose I'll believe you for now. I guess it's your turn to take a nap while I do the research. You look terrible and drained.”

         “Thanks. It's probably because of the heart palpitations,” he said shortly. “I won't say no to the nap, but I will say that you should probably start on the other book. The larger one was giving me no answers.”

         “Duly noted, Dickhead.”

 

***

 

          **_(Noon)_ **

 

         “Okay, Urag, I have _several_ questions,” Sybil said as she approached the librarian’s high desk, thin, thoroughly confusing book in hand. “First of all, why did you give me a book that is incomprehensible?”

         “Ah, that would be the work of Septimus Signus. He's the world's master of the nature of Elder Scrolls, but... well. He's been gone for a long while. Too long,” the old Orc said, sounding almost sad.

         “Do you know where he is? Maybe he'd know the whereabouts of an Elder Scroll.”

         “He's somewhere up north, in the ice fields. Said he found some old Dwemer artifact, but that was years ago, Sybilline. Haven't heard from him since.”

         “Is he dead?”

         “Oh no, I hope not. But even I haven't seen him in years, and we were close,” he explained, shaking his head. “You could try to search the ice fields if you want to find him, but they are incredibly treacherous, Sybilline. You know that.”

         She sighed, looking down at the book in her hands. “Yes, I do. But we have to get answers, Urag. The fate of the world is kind of in jeopardy right now and this is the only way to help.”

         “I know, dear girl. I understand, I just want you to be safe.”

         “Trust me, if I have Vilkas with me, I'm safe,” she said, smiling fondly over her shoulder at her sleeping friend. It slipped when she remembered her other question for the Orc mage. “Do you have any books on curing lycanthropy?”

         “Now why on Nirn would you need something like that?”

         She sighed, debating on whether or not to tell him the truth, weighing the consequences. “If I tell you, do you swear not to tell anyone else? _No one_ can know, Urag.”

         “Who am I going to tell, dear girl? The books?” He laughed before saying seriously, “I swear, Sybilline.”

         “Alright. Well, you've heard of the Companions?” A quick nod in answer. “They have this thing called the Circle, sort of the elite around Jorrvaskr. But to join the Circle you have to accept a curse that allows you to turn into a werewolf. And take a guess at who is a part of the Circle.”

         “Please don't tell me it's you. Curses like that can be extremely dangerous, Sybilline!”

         “Of course it's not me! I've only been there for a couple of months; they'd never allow me to be a part of the Circle. But Vilkas is. And he struggles with it, very seriously. Some of the Circle members are looking for a cure but haven't been able to find anything. That's why I was wondering if you had anything that could help me help them. Please, Urag. It's very important to me.”

         The old man sighed. “Yeah, that much I can see clearly. I have a few books on rituals and cleansing spells. They might help but I can't promise anything,” he said as he hurried off to find the books.

         “That's okay. Anything will help.”  She turned and leaned against the counter as she waited, watching her friend. She frowned as she thought of their conversation in the stairwell on the way back down from the roof.

         “What did you mean by heart palpitations?” she had asked, staying close to him, just barely grazing his arm.

         “Well, obviously the biology between the werewolf form and the human form is vastly different. For example, in my werewolf form, I have a _much_ sharper sense of smell and am able to identify things that don't normally have a scent. Fear, anxiety, anger, things like that. Our hearts naturally beat faster when we've transformed. So my heart rate picking up is my body signalling to me that it's about to jump headfirst into a transformation. But when I refuse to transform, the two biologies are fighting for control so my heart could randomly speed up, fall out of rhythm, all those unhealthy, quite frankly terrifying, things.”

         She'd been quiet for a moment before asking another question. “Does it happen all the time or just during what happened now?”

         He had shrugged. “It comes and goes. The stutters aren't as strong or painful outside of the episodes, but they're still enough to stop me in my tracks and force me to concentrate on not transforming.”

         “Will you tell me when that happens too? I want to know so I can help you,” she'd said quietly, looking down self consciously. She'd felt ridiculous for being so worried but she couldn't help it. She needed to know that he was okay and that she could help when he wasn't.

         “Yeah, I'll let you know, Starshine.” She could hear the smile in his voice and it had made her smile too.

         Sybil turned at the sound of books being set on the counter and unsuccessfully tried to hide her disappointment at there only being three.

         “I know, but it's all I have that could pertain to lycanthropy. It's not a very widely studied topic here at the College so we don't have many resources for it,” Urag explained as she glanced through them.

         “I understand,” she said, nodding. “Thank you, Urag. I really do appreciate it. You don't know how much.”

         “Yeah, yeah. I'm only letting you take them because I know you'll take care of them, and the others too. They better be brought back in pristine condition, girly,” the librarian said gruffly, making her smile. He smiled to after a moment, though it seemed a tad melancholy. “That's what happened up on the roof, wasn't it? He was struggling?”

         She didn't answer him, only looked down at the smooth wood of the desk. “Come now, Sybilline. You've gotten better at it but you'll never be able to lie to me. Please, just tell me. Are you _safe_ with him? While he's struggling?”

         “I'm always safe with him,” Sybil answered immediately, meeting the Orc’s dark eyes. “Always. I was scared when I first found out but that didn't last long at all. He’d never hurt me.”

         “How can you be so sure?”

         “Urag, even when he had no control of himself, he didn't hurt me. He stopped before he did anything to me.” She paused, looking down again. “And if it happens again, if he doesn't stop, then the world certainly thinks it'll be better off without me, right?”

         “Sybilline-!”

         “Vilkas and I need to leave soon if we want to get to the ice fields and to wherever else we’ll surely be sent afterwards before dark,” she said quickly, already moving to wake her sleeping friend. “I’m sorry we didn’t have time to catch up, but I’m almost positive we’ll be making a stop back by the College after we find the Scroll. I’m sure my favourite librarian wouldn’t want to miss the chance to see it, correct?”


End file.
